The Perks of Being Elizabeth Goodbody
by still.fly
Summary: All I really want is for Albus Potter to love me. And I know that I'm his best friend and stuff, but I shouldn't have to try so hard. I mean - what can I say? I'm a smoking hot dude magnet. Guess I fell for the one bloke looking for more than that.
1. Eccentric

**Chapter One**

It all started with a fish.

His name was Paul, and he was the best fish a girl could ever ask for. Which, in fact, I _did_ ask for him—begged was more like it, actually. I'm not sure why I wanted a fish so badly, but I did, and my parents finally got me one as soon as the owl with my Hogwarts letter swooped in through our kitchen window. It was possibly the greatest day of my eleven-year-old life.

Now, being the lovely little girl that I was, my parents endowed their trust on me by giving me the responsibility of looking after him while I began my studies at Hogwarts.

You can imagine the looks I received when I carried Paul's rather hefty tank down the corridors of the Hogwarts express, water spilling from the sides every now and again. It's like these kids have never seen an eleven-year-old girl carry a fish down a train before.

. . . What?

Haven't you seen that before?

One boy in particular was giving me rather nasty looks. He had glasses on, but they were rather crooked and tight on his face, but behind them were the most gorgeous green eyes I've ever seen. His hair was black and unruly, sticking in every which way. I would say that he was cute, if it weren't for the booger hanging from his right nostril. He was standing next a pasty girl with red hair who had blue eyes, no freckles and looked completely apathetic.

The boy stepped forward, and cleared his throat, "Excuse me, but what's with the fish?"

I surveyed him for a moment—he looked like he was my age—and disregarded his question and posed one of my own, "What are you supposed to be?" I inquired rather snootily—I was quite the stuck up little eleven-year-old—motioning to his hair, "A hedgehog?"

He patted his hair down subconsciously, looking rather hurt. Who knew that eleven-year-old boys were so insecure about their hair? He opened his mouth again to speak, "W-well, what are _you_ supposed to be?" He gestured to my fish, "A . . . fish lady?"

Nice come back, stranger.

I paused, unsure if I should be taking this kid seriously or not. I decided not to, because it's sort of hard to take anyone seriously when they've got a booger hanging out of their nose, "Yes," I said, "Now move it. I'm trying to find a compartment where Paul and I can have some privacy."

"No," He insisted, stepping in front of me as I tried to walk around him and his redheaded gal pal, "You haven't answered my question yet. What's with the fish?"

"What'sit to ya?"

He glanced to his companion with such a look that clearly indicated he thought me to be completely bonkers. The girl nodded, and she stepped forward, cracking her knuckles as if she was about to pound me in the face or something.

I think I should probably be frightened by now, but something about her lanky arms and skinny bod only made me want to upset them more. So, rather stupidly, I asked, "Did your freckles run away this morning when you put on that shirt? For real. What are you even supposed to be? A day walker or whatever?"

She scoffed, cracking her neck this time, "Is that supposed to imply that I'm white or something?"

"You also forgot the part where I called your shirt ugly."

Her eyebrows furrowed into a deep glare and she growled like she was some sort of animal or something, "You're getting on my last nerve right now, fish lady. Just answer my cousin's question already and then you can leave!"

Who did these lunatics think they were?

"No," I exclaimed rather haughtily, pushing through them before they could so much as blink. Unfortunately, my huge trunk mucked things up. It got stuck in between their bodies, pulling me back with full force. In surprise, I dropped the tank nestled in my arms and watched, horrified, as it crashed to the ground. The glass broke into millions of pieces, water flooded the corridor, and Paul lay flopping around on the wet ground.

"Paul!" I cried, dropping to my knees as I watched my beloved fish's body slowly begin to quit its movements. He died then and there on the Hogwarts express for everyone to see, and I promptly burst into tears.

And that's how I became best friends with Albus Potter and Rose Weasley.

Ironically, it all ended with a fish too.

And when I say _it_, I mean my friendship with Al.

It was the summer before fourth year, and I was staying at Rose's house for a week. The Weasley's greeted me with their usual hospitality.

"Hey, marshmallow legs." Hugo greeted me through the cracked door, eying my legs—which, I will admit, _were_ a bit pasty but were in no way pudgy. I worked out this summer, thank you very much, Huge-O.

"Hugo!" A voice reprimanded. The door opened fully to reveal a smiling, slightly aged, bushy-haired brunette.

"Elizabeth!"

(That's me).

Mrs. Weasley extended her arms to me. I smiled and gave her a side hug rather awkwardly. "Here," She continued, "Let me—erm—take that from you so that you can get your things settled upstairs." She took the tank containing Paul the Ninth from my arms and set it on the small table in the doorway. Don't ask what happened to Paul the Second, Third, Fourth, Fifth, Sixth, Seventh, and Eighth. I don't like to talk about it.

"Thank you so much for letting me stay here, Mrs. Weasley," I said all courteous and whatever, "I'll be down in a second to get Paul the Ninth here." She nodded, eying Paul briefly before turning around and walking to the kitchen or something.

It's funny that Mrs. Weasley tries to act like she doesn't think I'm a weirdo when I _know_ that she thinks I'm completely insane. I'm not sure why she finds my attachment to fish so odd, but she does. I have an inkling that she resents me for it. I don't blame her, though. If I were a mom I wouldn't want my daughter hanging out with a psychopath like me either.

Anywho, I walked up their staircase and put my things in Rose's room. Hurriedly, I ran downstairs again to retrieve Paul before something could happen to him. You couldn't leave Paul alone too long when there were Weasley's around. That just spells out death, heartbroken misery, and cramped wrists from writing my mum so much for a new fish.

I mean—why do you think Paul the Ninth is Paul the _Ninth_?

I ran upstairs again, this time with Paul, and set him on the nightstand Rose put next to the spare bed _just _for him.

"Hey, Eliza!"

"AHHHHH!" was my bloodcurdling response to whatever bozo scared me to the point of practically peeing. Erm, except not really. That's kind of gross. Anyways, along with the unattractive scream, I jumped about a foot upward into the air and two feet backwards right into the nightstand that held my precious Paul.

Tips:

Don't sneak up on me, or you will pay.

Don't kill my fish, or you will pay.

And _never_ laugh at me when you've accomplished both of the above within the two same seconds, _or you will pay_. Big time.

I stared at Paul's flopping form, preparing myself to turn to the horrible monster that made this all happen. The horrible monster that was _laughing_ at me.

Eyebrows?

Furrowed.

Glare?

Deadly.

Hair?

Disheveled.

Hands?

Clenched.

Nose?

Flared.

Lips?

Quite sexy, actually.

Okay.

I think I'm ready.

I turned around, looking quite menacing if I do say so myself, and glared at the intruder, the _murderer._ And you want to know who it was? It was one of my supposed best friends, pointing and laughing at the anguish Paul and I shared. And you know, even if Paul is like dying right now or whatever, I still think my anguish could beat his.

Is that sad?

Anywho.

"Al!" I screeched, sticking the pointy finger of blame right in between his green eyeballs, "You insensitive slut!" His laughter died almost immediately as soon as he realized the depth of my anger, "Hurry and go get a cup of water or something from Rose's bathroom before I kill you." He nodded, following my orders like a trained mutt.

I was faintly aware of the water turning off and then on from the bathroom connected to Rose's room, but I was a bit focused on scooping as much of the spilled water as possible into my hands so that I could bathe Paul in it.

You know, so he wouldn't die.

"Here!" Albus yelled, running into the room with Rose's big mug in hand. I yanked the cup from his hands, perhaps with a bit _too_ much force because it sent me flying backwards. The mug fell out of my hands, and I watched, almost as if it were in slow motion, as the cup twirled in the air, water flying every which way. The mug fell right on top of Paul's fragile body.

I sat up frantically and spun around, arms flailing. I felt my elbow collide with something hard, heard someone grunt in pain, and then there was another body lying on top of mine.

I guess I must've elbowed Al in the gut or something.

Oops.

"Albus!" I exclaimed, forgetting the dead fish on the ground and rubbing his back to help soothe the pain, "Are you alright! Did I get'cha in the gut or something?" His face was all contorted in pain (I would know—his face was about two inches from my own), and he was spluttering and spitting all over. He shook his head in answer to my question, and suddenly I understood. My eyes widened.

I sat up immediately, helping him to his knees as well.

"Crap!" I yelped, "I am so so so so so so so so _so_ sorry, Albus!"

"D-don't worry 'bout it, Liza."

I hugged him tightly to tell him how sorry I was. You know, I may say that I'm going to kill you and whatnot, but I'm too much of a wuss to actually follow through with it. Not that I've ever for realled _considered_ killing someone; that was just an exaggeration. Anyways, he laid his head on my shoulder, burying his nose into my neck while I patted his back.

We stayed like that, until he stopped writhing in pain.

I'm not sure what it was, but even through his face being contorted in pain, his spit flying everywhere (including on me), and the vulnerability he was exposing to me, he still looked really cute. Then all of a sudden, my heart sped up like it was on over load and I _knew_.

I was in love with him.

All through dinner that night, I couldn't focus on anything. I was all dizzy and out of it. I didn't even notice Rose walk into the room with her mug, take one look inside it and scream like she just saw a zombie or something. And that's saying something, because zombies are really scary. I mean—they _eat_ people for crying out loud!

"Why is there a dead _fish_ in here!"

And, of course, all eyes turned to me.

But that's a story for another day.

The point was that I fell for my best friend, and _that_ is never good. In his eyes, I was still his awkward best friend, but to me he was my _everything_.

Presently, it was the summer before sixth year. I felt an odd sense of déjà vu as I stood outside the Weasley household with my trunk by my side and a tank with a fish in my arms. Although, this time, it wasn't Hugo or Mrs. Weasley at the door, but Rose. I didn't get much time to check if it was actually her, because I was bombarded with a pair of two lanky arms around my neck almost immediately as soon as the door opened, but I could tell it was her by the squeal that was currently screaming hello to my eardrums.

"Eliza!"

"Hey, Rosie. Missed me?" I asked, successfully balancing Paul in my arms while I hugged her back.

"Of course! Haven't I told you how boring things get when you're not around?"

"In the Weasley home?" I scoffed, prying her arms away from me, "Puh-lease."

She rolled her blue eyes, "Whatever, ho. Let's go find Albus."

After putting my stuff in her room and making sure that Paul the Fifteenth was safely placed on the nightstand, we walked across the street to where the Potters live and banged on the door until a disgruntled savior of the Wizarding world opened the door.

"Yo, Mr. P-rizzle."

Unlike Rose's parents, I think the Potters actually like me. Let's face it, if there's anyone more insane than I am, it's Harry Potter.

We can relate.

His annoyed expression almost immediately turned into one of bemusement. Yeah, I told you. Harry Potter has a soft spot when it comes to me. It's almost like I'm a second daughter to him. I hope not, though because that would mean that Albus is like a brother to me . . . and I don't really believe in having not so family feelings for, well, _family._

"Hey, Elizabeth!" And then the savior of the Wizarding world bumped his fist against mine like we were old chums—which, of course, we _were_. "Come right on in!" He extended his arm towards his home in invitation, "Albus is upstairs. Do whatever you want, just remember that we're having dinner at the Weasley's at five."

I nodded, giving him one last smile before dragging Rose upstairs.

"I swear," She grumbled, yanking her arm away from my grasp, "My own uncle loves _you _more than he loves _me._ He was so engrossed with you that he didn't even notice me standing right next to you! He is such a ho. I bet it's because he wants you to marry Albus, and he knows that you would oh-so-willingly oblige."

"Stuff it, will you?" I snapped, looking around to see if any Potter's were eavesdropping on us, "Someone might hear you."

"Eliza," Rose said, raising her eyebrows in such a way that gave me an inkling that she was enjoying my paranoia, "Everyone knows your feelings about him. The only one still clueless about it is the object of said feelings. You make it really obvious."

"I am inclined to agree with Rosie on this one," A voice piped in to our right, making me jump nearly right out of my pants. I turned to the little eavesdropper with a glare, and it didn't surprise me at all to see James Potter, Albus' older brother, smirking back at me. His arms were crossed over his lean bod, his hair was a little more disheveled than usual, and he was still in his pajamas. Geez, it was like two o'clock.

"Well, you can stuff it too." I growled at him.

He held his hands up in defense, "If it makes you feel any better, I happen to know that Al thinks you're hot. So if you ever think he's ignoring you or trying to look anywhere but at you, then don't think he's mad at you or anything. He may just be trying to keep his thoughts toward one of his best friends rated PG, if you know what I mean."

I just stared at him quizzically.

Actually, I didn't know what he meant.

"James," Rose butted in, rolling her eyes, "Elizabeth is a pureblood. She doesn't have a clue what a _movie_ is, so she's definitely not going to know what _PG _means."

"Whatever," James groaned back, most likely because he has to explain himself or whatever, "Basically, Albus tends to think of you in much more than friendly ways from time to time," He eyed me up and down before continuing, "Especially when you wear things like that." Subconsciously, I pulled my shirt up. I didn't think twice about my outfit when I walked out the door this morning. Now, I'm debating whether I should run to Rose's and change.

But it's summer, and I'm not going to go change my shorts just so that I can boil in some jeans.

"Go away, James." Rose commanded, grabbing his shoulder and pointing towards the stairs. If he didn't hurry and descend them soon, then I may just push him down myself. He shrugged, stepping around us and going downstairs.

Good choice, Jimboy.

I'm not sure why I was so angry at him. Usually girls love to hear that their crush thinks they're hot or whatever, but it was the way that he said it that sorta made me mad. It was like he was _trying_ to get my hopes up or something.

As Rose would say, what a _ho_.

Rose barged into Al's room, opening the doors without even knocking. I followed in after her, looking around the familiar room where we spent most of our time together in the summer. I'm not sure _why_ we used this as our sort of 'hiding spot' when Rose's room wasn't covered in dirty socks and underwear and didn't smell like a gym locker, but we did.

"Hey, cousin!" Rose shouted, poking Al in the back. His _bare_ back.

Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm . . .

Sorry, what?

Anywho. It looked like he was still sleeping. His face was pressed into his pillow, and I think I heard him _snoring_. His boxers were sticking out of his pajama bottoms, his blanket only seemed to be covering his feet, and he looked utterly adorable.

"'M tryin' to sleep."

"We can see that," I said, sitting on the bed next to his sleeping form. Rose took a seat at his feet after pulling the blanket off of the bed so that she could sit comfortably.

"And frankly—" Rose continued for me, winking in my general direction.

"We could really care less."

And with that, my arms wrapped themselves around Al's torso to restrain him while Rose tickled his feet ruthlessly. Albus is _very_ ticklish in his feet. It's actually really amusing 'cause me and Rose aren't ticklish at all so he can never really get us back. Almost instantly, Albus's body jerked about like he was being tortured or something.

Come to think of it, he sort of _was_ being tortured.

Good.

"S-stop—ha ha ha he heh he hah—you g-guys! Stop!" He was getting angry by now, but it sort of wasn't intimidating at all considering how hard he was laughing, "I'm s-s—ha ha ha!—serious here! Stop it, you—he he hah ha—y-you dumb ogres!"

"Dumb ogres!" I asked in mock hurt, hugging him more tightly so that it would hurt him and _not_ because it felt nice to have him so close to me, "That's it, tickle him more, Rosie!" Rose, with a devilish smile on her face, pinned down one of Albus' kicking legs so that it wouldn't smash right into her face and tickled it with absolutely no mercy.

"A-Alright, I'm s-sorry! Hah ha ha ha!" He squealed, "Just stop p-please!"

We released him, "Only because you said _please_, Al." Rose chirped, offering him her hand to help him out of bed—which he ignored. I watched, bemused, as he grumbled and stood up, raking his fingers through his uncontrollable hair. I'm convinced that Al's hair is really a weird alien that has attached itself to his head and claimed dominance upon it.

That would explain so much.

Al sauntered over to his dresser and pulled on a shirt, and then walked into the bathroom to perform the rest of his morning ritual. I heard him brushing his teeth, a loud clamor that indicated that he fell over or something—probably changing his pants, and I heard a sharp intake of breath as if he injured himself somehow. He came out, rubbing the side of his face tenderly, fully dressed and looking smoking. "I cut myself shaving." He told us, "Stupid razor. I wish I was seventeen already so that I could do everything by magic."

"But that's what happens to hoes," Rose said brightly. Al and I rolled our eyes. 'Ho' was probably Rose's _favorite_ word ever, "They get cut."

"I thought you slapped hoes," I disagreed, "You know, like this?" And then I reached over and slapped Al right across the face, ignoring his protest of a rather annoyed sounding, 'Hey!'

"No, you cut hoes!" Rose insisted, "You know, like 'ho, Imma _cut_ you'."

"But Al cut _himself_, so does that even apply here?"

"Maybe he realized how much of a ho he is, and did it on purpose."

"I really don't think that's what happened."

"How would you know?"

"Well, how would _you_?"

"Al's my cousin!" Rose exclaimed as if it were obvious, when it really wasn't, "We share this weird freaky connection that allows access to each other's thoughts.

"No we don't!" Al chimed in, looking at Rose like she was crazy. Rose waved him off.

"Ha!" I cheered with glee, pointing my finger at her in a sing-song sort of way, "Al said you guys don't, so that means I win here."

"I don't think that was really the point," Al said to me. He looked kind of annoyed, but I know that deep down he was really really amused, "I thought you guys were arguing over whether you slap hoes or cut them."

There was a moment of silence where Rose and I just stared at him.

"Shut up, ho." We said simultaneously, and then we both slapped him across the face and left the room.

I suppose that settled it.

"Yo, Mrs. P-rizzle."

Mrs. Potter smiled from across the kitchen counter, where she was cooking, probably so she could bring something to the dinner we're all going to at the Weasley's. After staring at me for about seven seconds, however, her eyes widened and her face went from delighted to horrorstricken in record time.

"Elizabeth!" She managed out of her spluttering mouth, "What are you doing here? You're not supposed to be here! Y-you're not coming to dinner are you!" At her words, my excited mood dropped, being replaced by one of hurt and rejection.

"Mum," Albus groaned, sitting down on one of the stools, "I thought you _liked_ Liza?"

"I-I do, but . . ." She spaced for a moment, "Oh, I have to go talk to Hermione!"

And then she ran out of the house like a rampaging, crazy lady. Rose took her seat on the left side of Al, and I sat on his right numbly.

"That was weird," Rose mumbled to us, "Aunt Ginny usually fawns over you as much as Uncle Harry does. I wonder what's up."

"She _hates_ me!" I fretted, "What other solution could there be! She's never going to want me over at your house ever again, Albus! She's not going to want me hanging out with you anymore! And once Ginny does that, Hermione and Ron are going to follow her lead in a _heartbeat_. Oh, Merlin! I'm going to be friendless for the rest of my life, and grow up with nothing but a house full of fish!"

"Will you relax, Eliza?" Al asked, placing a warm hand on my shoulder, "She loved you yesterday when she and dad wouldn't shut their traps up about you. I'm sure that there is a reasonable explanation for her strange behavior."

"How is her hating me unreasonable?" I asked, "I'm an extremely annoying person, therefore it's extremely reasonable for her to hate me."

"You're not annoying," Al disagreed, "You're just . . . eccentric."

"No, you're annoying."

"Thanks, Rose."

"Don't mention it."

"I _won't_."

"_Anyways_," Al interjected before things got ugly. Just 'cause Rose is my best friend doesn't mean I have to get along with her. You saw her when we first met! She called me a fish lady and was ready to pound my face in! It's sometimes hard to forget things like that, "We should probably head across the street for dinner now."

And so we got off our lazy bums, and began our journey to across the street.

"I thought you said you invited Scorpius over today," Rose accused Al, although her voice sounded a little put out, "and yet, I haven't seen him at all this entire day."

"I did," Al replied, "He's got family stuff going on today, but he's coming a little later. You know, spending the night. But don't worry, Rosie, you'll get to feed you freaky obsession with him soon . . . you'll just have to wait until tomorrow."

Rose opened the door to her house, grumbling.

And that's when it happened.

Someone screeched in what I assumed was fright and then Mrs. Weasley and Mrs. Potter were charging at me with deranged looks on their faces. Like they wanted to kill me or something. It sort of scared me, and, don't tell anyone this, but I think I peed a little bit. Before I could even comprehend what was happening, they tackled me to the ground.

_Of course_ something like this would happen to me.

"'The bloody hell?" I heard someone curse.

This was probably quite the sight. Who would have ever thought that I would be in a big pile of ulnas and femurs that belonged to Hermione Wealsey and Ginny Potter because they _tackled_ me into it? What crazed women!

"Elizabeth!" Mrs. Weasley said into my ear, rather frantically if I do say so myself, "You can't go in there!"

"Why not!"

"Because you can't!" Mrs. P-rizzle yelled from somewhere near my tummy.

"But I'm hungry!"

"Well . . ." Mrs. Weasley began, pausing for a moment as if she were thinking, "The food exploded! I guess we'll have to order pizza or something!" By now, there was a hefty crowd of Weasley/Potter member surrounding us, looking at the spectacle like the three of us were crazy. You _know_ you're loony when people as weird as the Weasley/Potter's look at you strange.

"Hermione," I heard someone say softly, in an almost concerned manner. I think it was Rose's dad, "The food hasn't exploded . . . now get off of Elizabeth and come eat."

Mrs. Weasley sat up and sent the most spine-tingling, gut-wrenching glare at her husband that I have ever seen. If I were him, I probably would have run away screaming like a little girl. She got up and sauntered over to her husband, pulling on his ear rather roughly so that his head was level with her mouth.

"Actually, _honey_," She hissed, "It _did_ explode, because, you know, I made—" She looked around hesitantly before continuing, "S-A-L-M-O-N. I wasn't exactly _aware,_" She growled the word, "that Elizabeth was coming over today."

I was vaguely aware of all the eyes that were burning into the back of my head, but I was a bit too caught up in my own thoughts to really care.

Sal mon?

Is that Jamaican? Like 'I made sal, mon!'

But then what is _sal_?

Ah, Mrs. W-fizzle, Jamaican me die here!

WHAT IN THE WORLD IS SAL, MON!

"What's wrong with salmon?" James piped up.

_Oh_.

Mrs. Potter rolled off of me and looked at her son with wide eyes, and then turned to me to see what my reaction was. In fact, I think _everyone_ besides James—the bozo—was staring at me with wide eyes . . . like I was about to faint or something . . . and, you know, I think I might.

Oh, Merlin.

She made _fish._

I think that was my last thought before everything went black.


	2. Phony

**Chapter Two**

I could faintly sense the soft cushion underneath my body, and the warm pressure in both of my hands. My fingers twitched involuntarily as I slowly opened my eyes, squinting at the bright light above my head. Sweet bloody Merlin, someone turn down the bleeding lights! I groaned, closing my eyes again and rolling onto my side . . .

Right into someone else's body. I was so disoriented that I barely noticed the contact, didn't even care, and snuggled up to the person as if they were my teddy bear. And, you know, they _should _be my teddy bear. They're comfy. Old teddy, you're fired.

. . .

Oh my gosh! Don't tell Mr. Tedders I said that! And no, you may not use this as blackmail. Wanna know why? 'CAUSE I EAT BLACKMAILERS FOR DINNER, HO.

"Eliza!" The teddy bear/person whispered excitedly, "You're finally awake!"

I chanced another try at opening my eyes. It was a lot easier for them to adjust when I wasn't looking at the ceiling and at Al instead.

Wait.

_AL!_

In a BED with me! 

All of a sudden it was like there was a glowing, golden light descending from the ceiling straight on me and Al along with a chorus of singing angels. No? You didn't feel it? Are you sure you're human? You're not the spawn of the devil or anything, riiight? 'Cause that would be flippin' awesome if you were! . . . You know, in a scary please-don't-take-over-my-body-and-possess-me sort of way.

"Was I asleep?" I asked, yawning in a—hopefully—adorable way. I was still sort of snuggled up to him, but I don't think he cared considering the fact that I'm one of his best friends. I did pull back a little, however, to look at his face. His eyes were bright—but when weren't they?—and he held his hands in mine.

"Erm—" He let go of one of my hands to scratch the back of his head, "Sort of. Passed out might be a better term to describe it though. You were out cold for at least thirty minutes! It was bloody scary. Of course, my family cares more about food then they do about the other members of our family, so they're all eating dinner right now. But I wanted to make sure you were okay."

"Do you really think they consider me apart of your family?"

What I wanted to ask was, 'Do _you_ really consider me apart of your family?' but I decided against it. I'mma wuss.

"Of course, Liza," He said with a heartwarming, _sincere_ smile. I mentally sighed.

Oh, sincerity. You're killing me here.

Ironically, I may just hate phoniness more than sincerity. 'Cause that's what I am; a huge phony that put on the best believable smile and replied, "Well great! That means a lot to me, Al." A huge phony that squeezed his warm hand in gratitude.

Erg.

I hate you, life.

You're a real poophead. Yeah, that's right, I called you a poophead. 'Cause it's _true_. I can barely stand to look at you, that's how much of a poophead you are. And no, I'm not immature for calling you that. It's what you are, so it's what I'm going to call you, okay?

Good, it's settled then.

"Wanna walk over to my place?" Al asked suddenly, sitting up and forcing me along with him, "They're still eating here, and I don't think you should go in there. You might faint again . . ." He paused, checking to make sure if I wasn't going to pass out just talking about it. Geez, it's not like I'm _prone_ to fainting, you dumb butt. How long have we known each other, Al? Five years? You'd think you'd learn these things already, ". . . We can make you something to eat over there."

"Okay!" I chirped, climbing out of the bed—_my_ bed, I just now realized (well, technically it's not _my_ bed, but it's the one I use every time I visit, so technically it _is_ . . . yeah). I pulled him along with me, made sure to cover my eyes as we passed through the kitchen, and then we strolled across the street to his house. When we entered the kitchen, I went straight for a place to sit.

"Now," I said slowly while making sure that my butt was nicely situated on the chair at his kitchen table, rubbing it around a few times for good measure . . . don't look at me like that! I already know I'm weird, "Make me a sandwich, slave!"

Al rolled his eyes, but nonetheless walked around his kitchen pulling condiments out of the fridge (they taught me what a fridge was last year! I still don't get it though . . .) and getting the bread out of the pantry, "You know, it's times like this that really make me question why I ever became friends with you. You're mean to me."

"I think it might be because of my charm and wit," I suggested, flashing the goofiest smile I could muster up and throwing up a peace sign for good measure (you know, just to give him an example _of_ said charm and wit). Aren't I just the cutest thing you've ever seen!

Don't answer that.

"Oh, yeah," Albus agreed sarcastically, "That's exactly why."

He finished the sandwich quickly, and handed it over to me before beginning on his own sandwich. Before he could so much as put the cheese on the bread, however, we were interrupted by someone bursting through the front door and into the kitchen—literally. I jumped, startled, and half the contents of my sandwich decided to dump itself on table.

Noo, I was just about to eat you!

I looked toward the intruder, who was zooming around the room on a broomstick excitedly, and noticed the unmistakable hair of Scorpius Malfoy. _Well_, if it isn't my absolute _favorite_ person in the world. Yeahh, sike. Scorpius Malfoy is a pervert. I really don't know what Rose sees in him.

He slowed the broom to a stop in front of Al, grinning stupidly.

Ha. He thinks he's so cool with his windswept blonde hair, and his crooked smile, and his sparkling blue eyes, and his lean bod, and . . .

Okay, fine. I may have _some_ idea of what Rose sees in him, but still! Regardless of his undeniable good looks, he's a complete weirdo who used to pick his nose in second year. It's true, I witnessed it. And I told Rose all about it in hopes that maybe she would see the light and get over Malfoy, but _no,_ 'someone as hot as Scorpius Malfoy would _never_ pick their nose_' _(Rose's words, not mine)_._

What a load of smelly dragon dung.

"Scorp!" Al exclaimed, throwing down his half-finished sandwich onto the counter so that he could do his secret handshake with Malfoy (which isn't really a secret considering that everyone knows about it). You know, I've never seen a weirder secret handshake in my life. It consists of them slapping their hands together while jumping in the air so that they can bump their feet together at the same time. It looks weirder than it sounds, which is really testifying of something 'cause it sounds really weird in the first place.

I tried it once. It didn't go over well. It was Christmas time, and when I brought my feet up to meet Albus', my right shoe flew off and knocked the tree over . . .

Look, I never said I was graceful.

"Rose isn't here, is she?" He questioned frantically as soon as he saw me. Rose's obsession for the bloke wasn't exactly kept a secret and so the tosser knows all about it . . . and he makes the extra effort to avoid the girl at all costs.

Buttface.

No, not you. _Malfoy._

"She's at her house with the rest of the family," Albus assured, "They're eating dinner."

"Then why aren't _you_ two over there with them?" He asked, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively at me when Albus wasn't looking. I threw him the bird in response. Malfoy smirked, leaning his body against the counter leisurely, looking me up and down in the process. For the second time that day, I pulled my shirt up.

You want to know what I hate most about Scorpius bloody Malfoy? He wants me, and he wants me _bad_. In third year, we were both walking back from a detention (one that _he_ brought upon us) and he pinned me against the wall and kissed me! It was the most disgusting moment of my entire life! Since then, he tries _anything_ to get me alone so that he can try some more moves on me.

Ew.

He's icky.

What's worse about it though, is that he hides it from everyone. In public and around his friends, he pretends like he's disgusted with me. Well, you know what, Malfoy? You weren't so _disgusted_ by me when you were sticking your tongue down my throat that day in third year, you lying, skeezy ho!

"Have you changed your name yet, Goodbody?" Malfoy asked, sneering now that Albus was looking again, "You know, so it's actually _fitting_ to you. I mean, someone named Goodbody ought to actually have a _good body_."

"Malfoy," I cut in, rolling my eyes in irritation, "That joke is so old that it's dead and buried next to Merlin himself." Honestly, I bet the guy who came up with the last name was some pervert who looked at a woman and was like, 'I deem thy name to be Goodbody because thou hast a mighty fine rack and stuff.'

Psh. Typical men.

Anywho. Back to the story.

"Aw, crap!" Albus exclaimed suddenly, patting his front and back pockets frantically, "I forgot my wand at the Weasley's! Will you guys be okay if I walk over there real quick to get it? It'll probably take about two minutes . . . if I don't get stopped by my family that is."

My eyes widened, "Eh?"

"Oh no worries, Al!" Scorpius replied, acting like he was taking one for the team by staying with me when really you know he's dying for Al to leave. Tosser. "We'll _try _not to kill each other for two measly minutes."

"Er . . . I'd feel a bit more comfortable going over there with you, actually."

"C'mon, Liza," Al said, winking, "They're probably still eating you-know-what. And Scorp's not gonna bite."

"That's what you think," I grumbled to myself.

"Sorry?"

"Nothing!"

"Great! Then I'll be back in no time, guys!"

"Wait—Al—I really think you should stay—Come back, Al—_Really, _Al, come b—okay." That was my glorious attempt at persuading him to stay as he walked out the door, leaving me with the pervert of all perverts . . . The pervert of all pervert who was currently trying to snake his arm around my waist.

"Stay away from me, Malfoy," I threatened, pushing away from him and pulling my wand out and pointing it at his chest. Malfoy pulled his out too.

"I'm not scared of your spells, Eliza," He said cockily, fingering his wand like he was some sort of prodigy (the only prodigy he was, was the prodigy of being the dumbest, lamest, grossest _ferret_ that ever existed. Even his father isn't as bad as him), "You're good at hexing, I know, but I'm also extremely good with shielding charms."

I groaned, stuffing my wand back in my pocket, "Whatever, Malfoy. But I'm being serious here, _stay away from me_."

"But it hurts to stay away from you, Eliza."

I mentally snorted. Actually, it was more like I mentally burst out into laughter, kicking and rolling on the floor while pointing and whatnot. It may have physically happened too, but I'm just too amused right now to really know for sure. Malfoy is perverted _and_ cheezy. Who would have guessed? Not me, that's for sure.

"I don't really care."

"But_ I_ care."

"Yeah . . . but that still doesn't change the fact that _I_ don't care. So buzz off."

"No."

"Yes."

"I don't want to."

"Haven't we already been through this? _I don't care_."

"You're cute when you're angry."

"And you're ugly all the freaking time."

"Sassy. I like it."

"You won't be liking it very much when I hex your face onto your butt, now will you?"

Scorpius stared at me for a moment, probably debating with himself over whether not I was being forreal right now and then he said, "_Deranged_. I like it even more."

I sneered, "_What_ is your problem, blondie?"

"_Your_ my problem, Liz." He stated, advancing toward me creepily.

Oh, no. He did not just go there.

My eyes narrowed to the point where they were now slits, my fist were clenched so tightly that I couldn't feel my fingers anymore, and I'm pretty sure I was baring my teeth like some sort of wild animal, "_Don't_ call me Liz, and _don't_ get any closer, Malfoy," I let out with a growl.

He ignored me, naturally. It's in the boy's genes to be unbearably annoying, after all. I don't really know what I was thinking, telling him to back off, really. Silly, naïve me.

Oh, wait.

That's right.

I DON'T WANT TO BE MOLESTED, THAT'S WHAT I WAS THINKING!

When he got close enough to me that he could reach out and touch me with his arm, I pivoted and elbowed him in the gut. He doubled over immediately, clutching at his stomach. Fun fact! When Scorpius Malfoy scrunches up his face in pain, he looks like a forty-year-old woman trying to pass a kidney stone.

Yeah . . . not the greatest sight I've ever seen.

"What in Merlin's name possessed you to do tha'?" Malfoy gasped out.

Maybe I should blame _you_ on this. After all, you are the spawn of the devil.

"Your face, bonehead."

With all that said and done, I stormed halfway out of the kitchen, turned around, grabbed my sandwich, took a bite, and continued on, raging out of the Potter household like nothing else. I was so angry, in fact, that I sent Al a rather disgruntled, demon-like, "Hey," as I passed him by. Maybe I actually am possessed. Oh, Merlin! I'm probably going to kill people in my sleep without even realizing it now. GET OUT OF ME, YOU DEVIL CHILD!

Kaythanksbye.

As soon as I got to Rose's room back at the Weasley's, I collapsed on the bed with a huff.

"Oh, Paul," I whined into my pillow, "You're so lucky that you're a fish. You don't have to deal with annoying prats that try to seduce you all the time, or oblivious best friends who should really just get a clue . . . you've no idea how frustrating love can get . . ." I paused for a moment, before bolting up in the bed, "Holy shnikey's! Or _do _you have an idea! I didn't rip you apart from your goldfish girlfriend, did I Paul! Oh, Paul, I am _so _sorry! I should have noticed! You're in love aren't you!"

His response was to breathe out some oxygen, causing a couple of bubbles to rise to the surface.

"It's okay, Paul!" I told him, "I'll fix this! I'll get you a new girlfriend . . . and then you can have little Paul Jr.'s! Just hang in there for a couple of days so that I can write mum and tell her, okay?"

"Are you really talking to a fish right now?"

"Of course, I'm talking to you, Paul," I told him, quite offended by his snarky attitude right after I offered to find him his soul mate, "I _always_ talk to you."

"Eliza!"

"What, Paul?"

"Turn around, you idiot."

"Geez, Paul, you're really demanding today." I answered, following his instructions and turning towards the doorway. And there stood Rose and Dominique, her strawberry blonde cousin, looking at me with rather strange looks. _Oh_. They were the ones talking to me, not Paul. No wonder he sounded so much like Rose.

"Where'd Al go?" Rose asked, walking to my bed and sitting on it. Dom followed her lead and sat down on Rose's bed.

"He's over at his house with Malfoy."

Rose jumped up immediately, "_What!"_

"He's over at his house with Mal—"

"She heard you, Eliza." Dom cut in, sending me a look that clearly stated that I should just stop talking. I stuck my tongue out at her in reply. Dom and I aren't exactly on the best of terms, if you haven't already noticed.

"Rose, where are you going?" I asked, as Rose began striding to the door hurriedly.

"To see my future husband, what do you think, Liza?"

"What do I think?" I pondered out loud in a sort of sarcastic tone, "I think that sounds really creepy, and that Malfoy is a tosser." I hesitated for a moment, contemplating, scheming. Slowly my mouth turned upwards into an evil smirk and I said, "But most of all, I think that we should wait until a little bit later to see him. Perhaps when everyone is asleep?"

Rose stopped for a moment, and I knew she was thinking through the pros and cons of my suggestion. I could see it all happening in her head. She wanted to go now because she hasn't seen him since we got out of school, he'll be awake and talking (and boy, does Rose go on about how she loves it when he talks . . . gag me), and she'll be able to stare into his beautiful blue eyes or something. She wanted to go later because he'll be asleep in his pajamas which were, presumably, just his boxers, if he's asleep he can't run from her, and because Rose finds him quite sexy in the moonlight.

Once again, GAG ME.

"Alright," Rose finally agreed, reluctantly sitting back down on the bed and kicking her feet up, "Later it is, then."

I grinned, "Don't worry, Rose. You won't regret this."

Well . . . that was most likely a lie.

"Whatever is going through your heads, leave me out of this." Dom insisted, shaking her head at our shenanigans.

"But, Dom!" Rose almost wailed, "We could use your help sneaking into the Potter's house. You're seventeen, after all, and it'll be a bit tricky without any magic to help us out. Please?"

"No."

"But it's my true love!"

"You're not in love with him, you're just obsessed."

Rose scoffed, "I resent that!"

"He's also a complete git."

I'm beginning to like this girl. Wait, I take that back. _Everyone_ thinks he's a complete git. Except Rose, of course.

"Pleasepleasepleaseplease!"

"No!"

"We can steal the Potter's chocolate cake while we're over there," I suggested, knowing exactly just how we were supposed to penetrate Dom's cold, cold heart . . . with sugary sweets, of course. What sane girl would turn down chocolate cake?

I sure wouldn't.

. . . Then again, I'm not exactly sane, so I'm not really sure what that was supposed to prove.

"Fine," Dom grumbled, flipping her hair over her shoulder before crossing her arms over her chest like a prude.

I controlled the urge to dance around the room in victory.

"We're leaving at midnight, hoes!"

**1:26 A.M.**

"I can't believe you fell asleep on us Dom—"

"Rose, shut up."

"Seriously, we sat there for like an hour just trying to wake you up—"

"I fell asleep for a reason. And, you know, I don't really appreciate how you woke me up—"

"I really don't think you realize how loud you guys are being."

"It was all necessary, Dom—"

"We're going to wake up the entire house."

"—and besides, your hair grew back after you did that spell on it—"

"Oh _yeah_, at least it grew back—!"

"—it's not like we _meant_ to catch your hair on fire, anyways."

Dom scoffed, "Alright, then. Please tell me what you were _trying_ to do with that fire—"

"Look, that's not the point right now—"

"SHUT UP, YOU BLEEDING DUNDERHEADS!"

Dom, who had her mouth open to snap something back at Rose, shut it and looked at me like I was crazy. Rose, who had jumped in fright, began looking around the kitchen nervously, like her parents were going to jump out and yell, 'CAUGHT 'CHA, HOES!' any second now.

"Eliza!" She whispered venomously after confirming that the coast was still indeed clear, "Do you mind? You're going to wake up the entire house, and then where would we be?"

"Are you kidding me—!"

"Really, Goodbody," Dom agreed, sticking her perfect little nose up at me, "You need to learn to control yourself."

I glared at this kid like my life depended on it. The thing about Dom is that she is all dandy and flowery and happy and nice to everyone around her, _but me._ I really don't get it, because I haven't done a single thing in my life to offend her. It's like she hates me for existing.

Well, I suppose that's a little understandable but STILL.

"Are we going, 'er what?" Rose quipped, tugging on our sleeves.

I rolled me eyes, pulling my sleeves down in complete seriousness (well, as serious as _I_ can get, at least) and nodded, "Let's do this thing, fo sho."


	3. Impulse

**Chapter Three**

I feel so legit right now. You don't even know.

I mean—_look at me_. I've got my sexy black sweater and my sexy black skinny jeans on, looking extremely sexy and extremely fly, if I do say so myself. I even went as far as putting on a black beanie, and letting Rose put black smudges on my cheeks. Dude, even my _hair_ is black.

Rose was in all black too, but I'm afraid she doesn't pull it off as sexily as I do. Dom is a killjoy, and wore her bright yellow t-shirt on purpose. I'd say that she wore those shorts on purpose too (you know, so that her pale legs would glow in the dark and stuff) but I don't think she likes to admit how white she is.

As we were crawling through the Potter's bushes, I felt completely and utterly invincible.

"'Eeep!" I squeaked, "Something is crawling in my shoe!" I jerked my leg around in attempt to shake it off, and I think I kicked Dom in the face in the process.

"Ow!" She hissed from behind me, "What the bloody hell was that for?"

"Oops," I replied, smirking, "It was an accident. I'm sorry."

(I wasn't).

"Focus!" Rose scolded us from the front of the line, glaring. Although I usually hated following her demands, I shut up and moved along willingly. I feel like I sort of owe it to her considering that I'm about to prank her 'true love' into next week. Yeah, that's right. When Rose was busying herself daydreaming about lover boy, I snuck downstairs and stuffed some pickles, whipped cream and nütella into my sexy black sweater.

. . . Although, the nütella is more for me to eat than it is for me to use on Malfoy. I'm so glad that the Weasley/Potters have all that muggle food. Nütella is my all time favorite . . . but thats sort of besides the point.

"Rose," Dom chimed, sounding rather annoyed, "Tell me why we are on our hands and knees in the dirt. Aren't all the Potters' rooms on the _second_ floor? It's not like they're going to see us just _walk_ up to their door, you know."

"Shuddup, Dom. It's obviously more fun this way," I replied, making sure to step on her fingers for the third time now, "Not like you know wha_t _fun _is_ or anything . . ."

"I'm sorry that my idea of fun doesn't include crawling around in the mud with the bugs and the plants," Dom snapped back, as she 'accidently' scratched her weirdly long nails against the exposed skin of my left ankle. I took in a sharp breath at the pain, and made sure to kick a little dirt in her face.

We finally reached the door, and we cautiously rose to a crouching position—well, except for Dom. She straightened herself out completely, stretching even. I pulled a bobby pin out of my hair, and, tongue sticking out of my mouth adorably, began to pick the lock. Dom huffed, shoving my hand out of the way, and pulled out her wand. She whispered, "_Alohamora ,"_ and the lock clicked immediately.

Way to steal my moment of glory, Dom.

Rose moved swiftly, opening the door a crack and looking through. Cautiously she opened it further, crawling into the home like a spider—stealthy, and unseen. I followed suit. Dom, on the other hand, barged into the place like an elephant—earth-rattling, huge, and extremely wrinkly. Not that being wrinkly has anything to do with her lack of sneakiness, but elephants _are_ rather wrinkly. Sort of like her hands. And she's sort of fat like an elephant too.

Sort of . . .

Look, I'd like to see you try to take a jab at Dom's looks. As much as I hate to admit it (seeing as the best thing I can come up with is that her _hands_ are wrinkly), the girl is beyond gorgeous. Just don't tell her I ever said that. Her head is already big enough.

Anyways.

"Look, guys," Dom stage-whispered, "I only came here for the chocolate cake, and I intend to _get_ aforementioned cake. Soo, I'll be in the kitchen. If we have to make a speedy run for it, just come get me from there, kay?"

"Yeah, whatever," Rose said, in a rather anxious manner, waving her off impatiently, "Let's just go already!" She pulled me away from Dom and the foyer and up the stairs quietly. Dom walked to the kitchen, ignoring our antics. We were only halfway up the staircase when we heard hushed whispering coming from the hallway on the second floor. We backed up straight against the wall so that our black outfits would blend in with the shadows. Hopefully that would be enough for us not to be seen by whoever was awake.

"Tell me why we're doing this again?" Someone asked someone else. I couldn't tell who it was though, because they were talking too softly.

"Because we're bored, obviously." Another answered.

"Excuse me?" The first one bit back, "_We're_ bored? No, sir. _You're_ bored. _I_ was entertaining myself with this thing called _sleep_."

Every moment that went by, their voices grew closer, and as they did I recognized Al's voice. And that could only mean that the idiot accompanying him was Malfoy. I couldn't see them at all, so I could only assume that they were under the shield of their family's invisibility cloak.

"Sleep is for chums." The one I presumed to be Scorpius said.

"No, sleep is for those who _don't_ have weird obsessions."

I glanced at Rose, thinking about her obsession with Malfoy. And then I thought about my obsession with fish and Dom's addiction to chocolate cake. I had to hold in my laugh as best as I could. Al was _so_ right.

"I'm not _obsessed_ with her."

"Actually, I never implied a _her _being involved."

There was a shuffling of feet as if someone had tripped and only just barely caught themselves, and then Scorpius whispered hastily, ignoring Albus' comment, "It'll be fun, okay?"

"How is Eliza chasing you around with a steel rod going to be fun? Because that's what's gonna happen if you steal her fish." I stopped breathing. Snapping my head up, and glancing at Rose in terror. She looked up as well, her alarmed, blue eyes glistening in the dim light coming in through the window.

"_True_." Malfoy agreed, their voice growing unbearably faint. Don't get any closer to Paul, you monster! HE'S JUST A DEFENSELESS FISH, FOR CRYING OUT LOUD_, "_But I doubt she'll actually _swing_ said rod if I have that dumb fish in my arms."

He is _not_ a dumb fish!

"Whatever flies your broom, Scorpy."

Their voices were now right next to us, and I completely froze, hiding the pale skin of my face behind my dark hair.

"And besides," Scorpius continued, "If you're so objected to this, then why are you even tagging along?"

"Because I know you're going to go down with this whether I go with you or not, and, knowing you, you're probably not going to make as much as a scene with me being there as you would going by yourself. And plus, I want to be there when Eliza beats the living snot out of you."

Scorpius scoffed, "I am _not_ going to get my day wrecked by some _girl._"

I resisted the urge to scoff. They were near the door now, so I probably could have gotten away with it, but I didn't want to take the chance.

There was a chuckle, one I think coming from Albus, and then, "We're not dealing with just _some_ girl, Scorp. This is Elizabeth Jewel Goodbody we're talking about. You are_ definitely_ going to get your day wrecked."

"What_ever._"

"Alright, go ahead and act all indifferent about it. It's your funeral."

And that was the last we heard of their conversation, as we heard the front door creak open and then shut quietly.

There was about ten seconds of silence, and then—

"_HolymotherofMerlin, _he's going to steal your fish!" Rose whispered/squealed frantically, and then continued (suddenly, in quite the dreamy manner), "Whatta a bad ass."

I stared at her, fearing for her sanity, "Erm, I think you mean _dumb_ ass—but whatever! That's not even important right now. Paul's life could possibly be on the line! We have to get back over to your house, Rosie. Pronto."

"It's not the first time Paul has died," Rose pointed out, staying rooted in her stupid dark corner as I bounced around on my feet impatiently, waiting for her to move her stupid, lanky, and not to mention _white_ legs down these stairs and out the blasted door, "In fact, he's already died like fifteen times."

"_Fourteen—_but once again, that's not even important right now. Move your fit little bod down those steps right this instant!"

"I'm going, I'm going!" She stated. She didn't even make it three steps before I realized something terribly obvious and grabbed her arm to stop her in her tracks, "Bleeding Merlin, what is it now, Eliza!"

"Wait—" I said, "We can't go through the front door. They'll see us!"

"Then what do you suggest we do?" Rose snapped, irritated, "Wait around until they take Paul hostage and perform Chinese water torture on him?"

". . . Rose, Paul _lives_ in water."

"That wasn't the point, moron."

I stopped, thinking sporadically, and then I snapped my fingers excitedly as an idea came to me, "We can go through Al's window!"

Rose's face lit up in excitement at the idea—that is, her face lit up in _mock_ excitement—and she said, "Oh yeah, that sounds like a really _brilliant_ idea, Liza. And while we're at it, why don't we just fall to our utter doom and _DIE!_"

"We're not going to die, Rose." I assured her as calmly as I could—which really wasn't that calm at all. Truth is, I'm so nervous that I'm on the verge of peeing, "There's a bloody gigantic tree outside Al's window. We can climb down that!"

"And how are we going to do that, exactly?" Rose asked incredulously, "I'm not a _monkey_! I can't just go around climbing down trees, Eliza! It's inhuman!"

"Look," I started in exasperation, "The faster we get to them, the faster you get to assault Malfoy for attempting to steal my fish, okay?" I raised my eyebrow for good measure.

Rose's mouth—which I seriously thought was going to go on forever—shut tight, and I could tell that she was thinking. Remaining safely on ground level, or jumping from the second floor window to her (possible) death just to see Malfoy? That was the question. She stared frantically between me, the front door, and the upstairs hallways at Al's room, and then said, "What are you doing just standing there? We've got a tree to climb!"

I rolled my eyes, following her up the stairs and into Al's dirty, smelly room. I went straight for the window, pushing it open effortlessly. I stuck one leg out of it cautiously and carefully climbed onto the massive branch of the tree outside his window. I turned around, looking at Rose expectantly. Her feet seemed to have glued themselves to the floor just inside of Al's room.

"Rose will you hurry?"

"Erm—I just realized," She began, eyeing the window as if it was about to bite her, "I may just possibly, _slightly_ be afraid of heights."

"You're only telling me this _now_?"

"Well, I reckon even if I had told you earlier, you would somehow find a way to drag me down that blasted tree anywho."

I huffed, shifting my feet a little on the branch, "And you're probably right, so you might as well get your arse over here now rather than later."

"Look, I'm sorry that I'm not as impulsive as you, Eliza, but uhh . . ."

It was getting mighty uncomfortable, standing up here on this branch. I feel like I understand the phrase 'out on a limb' so much better now. I shifted my feet just a smidgen more, but perhaps that was a smidgen too much because suddenly there wasn't a branch underneath my feet anymore.

Oh, barnacles.

It really wasn't that big of a fall, in fact, I've probably gone through bigger (in third year, I fell over the railing of the moving staircases when I was going from the second floor to third floor . . . so it was like the second floor and a half. I mean, sure there was a Professor nearby who charmed the fall to be all cushioned, er whatever, but it was still quite traumatizing).

I fell flat on my butt, squishing the pickles that I had stuffed into my sexy black camouflage. Did I mention that I fell into a bush? No? Well, I did. A _pointy_ bush.

Well isn't that just the icing on the cake? That is—the cake of _humiliation_.

I stood up, brushing leaves off of my sexy black skinny jeans and pulling a couple of twigs out of my hair. I looked towards the kitchen window and found a lovely scene of Dominique stuffing her mouth with chocolate cake. It appeared, however, that her fork had stopped halfway to her mouth when she heard the ruckus I created when I oh-so-gracefully fell into the bush.

She rushed to the window and pushed it open. I flinched back a little at the glare that was set on her features, "Are you _insane_!" She hissed, "You're going to wake up the entire neighborhood, you idiot!"

I sneered a little, "Do you honestly think I _meant_ to fall from the second floor, Dom? I'm not _that_ loony."

"Where's Rose?" Dom demanded, ignoring my comment.

At that moment, there was another loud rustle-y crash and I was happy to see Rose tangled up in the same bush I had been weaved into just a moment ago. She stood up, much like the way I did, and brushed off the debris.

"Quick, Dom," Rose burst out, motioning for Dom to climb through the window, "We've gotta go! I think James woke up!"

"Oh, _great_." I grumbled, "That's just what we need right now. A blithering idiot to come barging in."

"Who're you calling a blithering idiot, Goodbody?" A male's voice asked from behind Dom in the Potter's kitchen, after a resonating _crack_ filled the room.

"Cheese balls!" I cried. How did he get down here so fast!

"How did you get down here so fast!" Rose exclaimed, pointing a finger at him for who knows why. I knew we became best friends for a reason. We're so much alike.

"Why does everyone forget that I'm old enough to apparate!" He whined childishly.

"Maybe it's because you act like you're eight-years-old ninety-nine percent of the time? And the other one percent of the time you act like you're three?" I suggested thoughtfully. Dom and Rose both nodded their heads in agreement. James scoffed.

"Look, I can run up stairs right now, send some spells into large, hefty, precariously-placed items and wake up my parents, _or _you guys can include me into whatever mayhem you're brewing up." He raised his eyebrows, "Which will it be?"

I sighed. If there was anything worse than Malfoy taking Paul captive, it's having James Potter actually try to _help_. Unfortunately, him ratting on us would not be good either. But how much trouble can he create helping us beat the crap out of Malfoy?

Erm, is it just me, or was that the stupidest question I have ever asked myself?

"Okay, whatever," I gave in, "Let's just hurry, please."

I feel like I'm going to regret this. No, in fact, I'm _sure_ that I'm going to regret this. If there's one thing I can have faith in James Potter for, it's that he'll always be incredibly and undoubtedly stupid. And that's coming from ME, the _definition_ of stupidity. I mean, I don't think you understand, but that is _truly_ testifying of something. Like seriously, one time he asked me if it's like peeing your pants when your water breaks. HE IS THAT STUPID.

That's why, for whatever he suggests on this little 'mission', _I'm_ going to suggest the exact opposite.

"We should split up!" He proposed excitedly as we neared the Weasley's home.

"Alright, everyone, we're sticking together!" I commanded only seconds after his little exclamation.

James turned to me with a look of utmost outrage. Or, at least, I reckon that's what he was aiming for. He looked kind of constipated actually, and I had to try extra hard to keep my laugh held within myself. But, GAH, he looks freaking funny!

"Since when have you been the leader of this particular adventure?"

"Since Rose and I overheard Malfoy plotting to steal, torture, and assumingly kill my fish."

"It's never too late for me to run back to my house and—"

"Fine! Let's split up!" Rose cut in before I could open my big fat mouth.

"Yay!" He squeaked.

"B-but—" I stuttered, being cut off by Rose.

"It's not that big of a deal, Liza," Rose said, rolling her eyes at my childish displeasure, "Quit being a ho and accept the fact that, for once in his life, James actually came up with a good idea."

"It's not bloody possible!"

"James is just full of surprises," Dom stated, becoming sort of . . . emotional? "I'm so proud of him!"

Seriously, you like this kid and not _me_? I'M FREAKING ADORABLE . . . and he's kind of a flaming idiot. That's right, not just any regular kind of idiot; a _flaming_ one.

"I call going with Eliza!" James pronounced, putting his hand on my shoulder.

"Whatever." Dom replied, suddenly back to normal, grabbing Rose's hand and steering her toward the back door and away from us, thoroughly ignoring my squeals of protest.

"Rose!" I called after them as quietly as I could without outright yelling, "Don't leave me with him! He's loony! Stop walking away from me! I thought we were supposed to be best friends you no good, rotten _ho_. Seriously though, please get back her—okay."

Notice how often this happens to me?

Erg.

My brain cells die just looking at this kid, and now I'm stuck with him.

Deciding that I shouldn't let it get to me, I began my march towards the front door, only to be stopped by him as I went. I sent him an annoyed glare. Doesn't he know that my precious fish is in mortal danger right now!

"What?" I snapped.

"Look, Liza," He began, sounding all sincere and slightly sarcastic at the same time, "I may not know if Al really does like you in the more-than-friendly way, but what I said this morning is true, you know. He may have worded it a bit differently, but he definitely thinks you're absolutely gorgeous."

"Oh, er—" James was being (almost) sweet. This is bloody weird, "Thanks, James. That's . . . good to hear, I guess."

"And I know you don't like me, because you think I'm bloody moronic and stuff—"

"That's not _completely_ true—"

(Notice the emphasis on 'completely').

"You don't have to deny it, Eliza, I know it's true—"

"But I _do_ like you, James—!"

(Lies).

"Seriously, Eliza, it's okay. Because I've decided that it's sort of cute, the crush you have on my brother, and that I should help you. Albus is too sane for his own good; he needs someone like you in his life to keep things interesting." He winked at me.

"Er . . . thanks?"

"Don't mention it, Eliza. I've always had a soft spot for the helpless, unfortunate people anyways."

I scrunched up my face at him, "I'm not unfortunate or helpless, thank you very much."

He clicked his tongue a couple of times, rolling his eyes in a carefree sort of way whilst slinging his arm over my shoulder. I let it hang there for now, but if he wasn't careful with what he said, he was going to receive a real butt-kicking, "Oh, Eliza. Eliza, Eliza_, Eliza_. Elizabeth. Lizzie, my friend. Eeeeee-lize-ahhh. Elizabeth—" On that last one, his voice cracked and he had to clear his throat to regain the manliness he just lost there (he didn't have any manliness in the first place so that puts his man scale in the negatives), "You're so naïve, I could pee."

I scrunched my face up a little more, "I'm not sure what my naïve-ness has to do with your bladder and its need to relieve itself of its yellow liquid . . ." I realized a flaw in my words and then continued, "Especially considering the fact that I'm not naïve in the first place."

That may have slightly been a lie, but whatever.

"First of all, you're probably the naïve-est person I've ever met," He disagreed, crossing his arms and sticking his tongue out childishly, "Second of all, you're naïve-ness has _everything_ to do with my bladder. And third of all, I don't appreciate your snarky backtalk after I offered my humble services to you."

If it's even possible, my face scrunched up even more. This kid is insane.

"I think it'd be more helpful for me if you just _didn't _help at all, to tell the truth."

"See!" He exclaimed, sticking his finger in my face, "There you go being all naïve and downright ridiculous again." He finally began to pull me towards the Weasley's front door so that we could investigate and whatnot and I thanked the mighty gods because I don't think I could take much more of James Potter _talking_.

I stared at him for probably five whole seconds, "James Potter, you are a tool." At the look of outrage on his face, I continued reassuringly, "But a _useful_ tool."

Another lie! Call me butter, 'cause I'm on a _roll!_

His crestfallen face morphed into one of pure delight as we opened the door to the house and he exclaimed quietly, "I know, right! Thanks . . .er . . . Eliza?" His voice trailed off a bit as we crossed the threshold into the Weasley's home. His head cocked to the side like an owl. It actually looked quite amusing. I turned to see what he was staring at, and pretty soon I was mirroring his actions.

You see, Dom and Rose were standing in the foyer, Dom looking completely apathetic and Rose pointing one bony little finger at Albus and Scorpius who were both on the stairs . . . Albus also happened to be performing the Heimlich maneuver on Scorpius.

My friends are perfectly normal, and they don't even try to hide it . . .

Yes, that was sarcasm.

"What in Merlin's silky black, heart-ridden boxers is going on?" I asked, slightly frightened by the entire scene.

"When they saw that we caught them, Malfoy stuffed your fish in his mouth to hide it . . . choking on it in the process," Dom stated indifferently, staring at her nails as if they were the most interesting things in the world, as if Scorpius wasn't clawing at his throat frantically and as if Albus wasn't practically beating on his chest.

"WHAT!" It was then that I noticed the tank on the ground, tipped sideways with water spilling out as if someone had just knocked it down.

James put a hand on my shoulder, "Eliza, be quiet! You're going to wake up the whole house."

"I don't care!" I replied, "I don't want my fish in his intestines, thank you very much!"

It was at that moment that Albus heaved extra hard on Scorpius' chest and a small little goldfish flew out of Malfoy's mouth, flying across the room until hitting the wall and slowly sliding to the floor . . . lifeless. Malfoy gasped for air rapidly, but I was barely even aware of him right now. I ran to Paul, and scooped him up in my hands. He wasn't moving at all . . .

"MALFOY, YOU BLAZING WHORE!"

I think that's about when I began to chase the perv around with a steel rod, waking up the whole house in the process . . .

No big deal or anything.

But the real mind-boggler? I don't even know where I got the steel rod from.

And to top it all off, I seemed to have misplaced my nütella through this entire escapade.

Awesome.

_Yo Ma,_

_Paul died again, and you're not going to believe how this time! That idiot Scorpius Malfoy choked on him! I really wish that Malfoy could have been the one to suffocate and not Paul, but I guess you don't always get what you want. Anyways, that's not the point. I need another goldfish. Oh! And give him a little girlfriend too! Thanks mummy!_

_Lots of love and stuff,_

_Eliza_


	4. Shock

**Chapter Four**

"I am so disappointed in you lot—"

I wonder what's for lunch.

"—so reckless, and stupid—"

Whatever it is, I hope it's Asian.

"I mean, jumping out of the second floor window—?"

Asian food is yummy.

"—stuffing a goldfish in your mouth—?"

It's not fair, actually. Why are Asians smart _and_ great chefs?"

"—waving a steel rod around like a raging lunatic—?"

I mean, why do they get everything? I'm stupid_ and_ every food I touch turns to crap.

"To think that I actually thought you guys were responsible teenagers."

Erm . . . except when I eat it; that'd be nasty.

"Silly of me, really." Mrs. W-fizzle went on, "I should know that the words 'teenagers' and 'responsible' shouldn't be used in the same sentence unless the words 'are not' are in between them."

You want to know what I'm craving right now? Pizza. The kind with the ham and the pineapples on them. Or some salsa con queso. Man, I really wish I had that nütella right now too. And that Asian lunch thingy is sounding really good as well. But another thing that sounds really good? A burrito. Or like cheezy mashed potatoes. OH MY GOSH, I could really go for some cheesecake right now. Cheesecake would just make my day—scratch that, it would make my entire week—scratch that twice, it would make my whole month—scratch that three times, it would make my year—scratch that four times, it would make my entire _life._

"Just promise me you guys won't do anything stupid like that again."

A big, juicy steak would be nice right now too.

"Alright?"

I should force Albus to make me some more food.

". . . Are you even listening to me?"

I wonder what's for dinner.

"Merlin's pants!" Mrs. Weasley huffed, "You lot are unbelievable!"

"Wait," Someone spoke up from my left; I think it was Rose, "_What's_ unbelievable?"

"Merlin's pants, Rose." Albus answered, "I bet they're bejeweled or something."

"_Ohh._" Rose nodded in understanding.

I scoffed, popping myself into their conversation easily, "Fat chance. I bet his pants were super _skinny_."

"I bet Merlin wore spandex." Malfoy chimed.

Everyone in the general vicinity (minus Rose) gave Malfoy a look that pretty much _singed_ 'stop talking, or you will die'.

"Nice mental image, Malfoy." Dom congratulated sarcastically.

"Heh heh . . ." He laughed nervously, and scratched his neck in embarrassment, ". . . right."

"CHILDREN!" Mrs. Weasley yelled desperately, successfully gaining our attention, "Will you stop that! I've been trying to scold you lot for the past twenty minutes, and none of you were even paying attention!" She collapsed on the couch, resting her elbows on her knees and burying her head into her hands in apparent frustration.

"Erm . . ." Al began, "You can try again . . . if you want?"

Mrs. Weasley looked up to shoot Al an annoyed look, and then sighed, "Oh, whatever. Just go away. I'll simply pretend like you guys learned your lesson." She waved her hand towards the door, silently ordering us to go back to our respective rooms or whatever.

So we all shrugged and left Mrs. W-fizzle in the living room. It was well past noon at this point (you see, Mrs. Weasley wanted to wait until she got enough sleep to scold us), so we all scrambled into the backyard to soak up the summer sun. Al and Scorpius immediately ran to the middle of the spacious field behind the house to wrestle and do boy things. Rose, Dom and I remained on the porch, staring.

And then I remembered something.

"Hey, Rose," I said, "Could I use your owl?"

"Gonna write another letter to your mum asking for another goldfish?"

I pulled an envelope out of my bra (I didn't have any pockets, okay?) and waved it in front of her face, "Already did."

Rose raised her eyebrows, "Whatever, you psycho fish lady."

I looked over at Dom, who was studying her nails vigorously, then at Al and Malfoy (Al had the stupid git in a headlock. GO AL!), then at Rose who was basically screaming for her owl to come down here, and then I sighed because I was completely and utterly bored.

"HOLY CRAP!" Dom yelled, standing up all of a sudden. I jumped, frightened by her weird/crazy outburst, "Where the heck is James? Wasn't he supposed to wake up for Aunt Hermione's scolding too?""

"By golly!" I exclaimed (hehe, I've always wanted to say that), rising to my feet, "You're right."

Rose stoop up as well, "_Wait_, are you telling me that he skipped out on possibly the twenty most boring moments in all of earth's history and left us to be eaten alive by said boredom!"

Dom and I nodded.

Rose's eyes narrowed to slits, "That _skank_."

There was a crack, and then, from right behind me, came James' voice saying, "Who're you calling a skank, Weasley?"

Rose punched James' shoulder, "Don't call me by my last name, you nimrod. We're _related_."

"_So?_"

All three of us smacked our hands to our foreheads. Dom shook her head at her cousin's stupidity, Rose punched him on the arm again, and I sat down because whatever James was about to go on about was bound to make me thoroughly exhausted.

Rose, being Rose, hit James' arm for a third time.

"Ow!" He cried, rubbing his arm briskly, "Stop hitting me, woman!"

Rose punched him again.

"Are you deaf!" He yelled, "Stop that!"

"Why didn't you wake up to get scolded by Hermione like you were supposed to, you ho!" She very nearly screamed, ignoring his protests completely. She waved her arms around in the air angrily, and I had to duck like five times so I wouldn't be smacked in the face by them. I sniggered. She just got Dom in the nose.

James was too preoccupied by rubbing his arm that he didn't answer. In response, Rose hit him again.

"What do I look like, a punching bag!"

". . . Yes." I answered, giggling to myself. James shot me a glare.

"Answer me, you dolt!" Rose yelled.

James sighed, shifting his gaze to Rose in deliberate slowness. I hope he realizes that he just looks stupid doing that, "Listen, Rose. Do you honestly think that I was going to wake up to my blabbermouth aunt scolding me? I wouldn't have even paid any attention if I had, so why even go?" Rose stared at him in silence for a little bit, her brows furrowing even more with each second that ticked by.

"Well, why didn't _I_ think of that!" Rose punched him again.

"Hey!" He protested, "Don't take your own stupidity out on me!"

Rose, whose arm was raised to hit him again, froze. Her eyes turned icy, and she glared at James furiously, "_What_ did you just say?"

"I said, 'Don't take your own stupidity out on m—"

Rose interrupted him, "_You're_ calling _me_ stupid! Oh that is _it_." Rose lifted up her sleeves and cracked her knuckles much like she did that day I met her and Al on the train. She stepped towards James, fist in front of her.

James caught on immediately, "Oh, I see! Rosie wants to go, don't you!" He got in his own battle stance, but he didn't look quite as ninja as Rose, "Bring it, little cousin."

"Hell, yes I wanna go!" She yelled, "Let's take this outside, ho!"

Dom stepped forward, placing a hand on Rose's shoulder, "We _are_ outside, Rose."

"Oh . . ." She said flatly, and then she perked up again after a moment of contemplating, "You wanna take this inside just so we can take it back out!"

James straightened up, momentarily distracted, and gave Rose a weird look. Dom and I smacked our hands to our foreheads again. Seriously, what is wrong with me? Why do I attract lunatics? Because not one friend I have is mentally stable. It's really scary, actually. One day, I'll befriend a murdering cutthroat and won't even think twice about it.

And then he'll kill me!

Good Lord, I should probably grow out of this habit.

". . . I don't know if I wanna go now." James said slowly.

I rolled my eyes, leaning back against the wall of the house so that I could watch their antics comfortably. Rose and James argued on while Al and Scorpius continued to wrestle in the grass, laughing and cussing and having fun. I kept my eye on Al, my expression softening as he whooped in delight after successfully beating Malfoy in their match.

I saw someone sit next to me from the corner of my eye, and turned to find that it was Dom. She was glaring at me like her life depended on it.

Well, nothing new going on here.

"What?" I snapped, already irritated by her presence.

"I don't like you, Eliza."

"Well, great. Now that we have that established . . ."

"You don't deserve him."

"Excuse me?"

Okay, now I truly had no idea what she was talking about. Her gaze left mine and I followed her line of sight, hoping for just an _inkling_ of what the crap she's going on about. She was staring at Al and Malfoy, but mostly Al. She looked back at me and raised her eyebrows snootily, and then I understood.

"Is this why you hate me, Dom?" I asked, smirking slightly at the idea of it all, "Because I have a crush on your cousin?"

"Don't give me that 'crush' talk, Goodbody." Dom huffed, flipping her perfect golden hair behind her shoulder, "I see the way you look at him. It's not just a crush, and you know it. You better be careful, because if he falls for you . . ." She trailed off, her tone threatening. But when have _I_ even been afraid of a Weasley? Or anything for that matter? I'm freaking fearless!

I was getting extremely pissed at this point, "And so what if he does! Last time I checked it wasn't your responsibility to delegate who Al can and cannot fall in love with. You're bleeding psycho, Dom!"

Except she wasn't. I guess it sort of made sense, even to me. I may not know Dom as well as Rose does, but from what I can tell, she is extremely attached to her family. Didn't she get emotional last night because of James being 'smart' for once (if you could even call what he did smart)? Ahh, this explains everything! The great mystery as to why Dom hates me is finally solved!

Dom's top lip lifted into a repulsing sneer, "Just remember that I'm watching you."

Oh don't worry, Dom. I'll make sure not to forget. I'll write it down in my journal just for good measure, because I _really_ don't want to forget. Really, _really_ don't want to forget.

Yeah, sike.

"Whatever," I commented coldly as she got up and walked away from me.

That girl is a menace.

"Can you _believe_ the nerve of that girl!" I practically yelled at Rose, storming into her room like a . . . storm. I flew myself face first into the pillow on my bed, screaming like an unhappy child, and then turned to look at Rose, "I've never been so infuriated in my entire life!"

Rose rolled her eyes, "Dom is hardly anyone to be afraid of, Eliza. Especially when it's you we're talking about."

"You think I don't know that?" I snapped. I was in rather the grouchy mood right now, and I would apologize for being mean to Rose later. Right now, I needed to vent though. Rose understands . . . hopefully, "That's not the problem, Rosie. It's just . . . _annoying._"

"You're dealing with the Weasley family, Eliza," Rose told me, laughing. That was a good sign, that she was laughing. Maybe that means she _does_ understand, "What'd you expect?"

"To become bloody famous . . ."I grumbled into my pillow.

Rose scoffed, "Even _I'm_ not famous, Eliza, and I am the _daughter_ of Hermione and Ron Weasley. The only people who're even _remotely_ famous around here (besides my parents and Uncle Harry) are James, Al, and Lily. And that is solely because of their last name. So suck it up."

I sighed into my pillow, "Rose, I just feel like everything is against me, and no matter what I do or how hard I try, I'm going to end up as a failure. It won't be long until Dom has your whole family against me too, you know."

"Now that's just ridiculous, Eliza," Rose stated, sounding irritated by my (surprisingly short) rant, "My family loves you. We wouldn't be the same without your quirks and snappy comments there alongside us."

"I don't know," I muttered, "I can think of a few people who wouldn't mind if I just dropped off the face of the earth . . ."

"Like who?"

"Dom . . ."

"And?"

"Someone else . . . I can't recall their name right now."

"Well, when it comes back to you, let me know." Rose commanded sarcastically.

"I intend to."

"Good."

"Great."

"Splendid!"

"Awesome!"

"_Fantastic!"_

"_Marvelous!"_

"_Excellent!"_

"_Spec-freaking-tacular!"_

"_Wonderful!"_

"_Brilliant!"_

"_GOOD!"_

"_GREAT!"_

I really wish someone was here to stop this, because it's not going to happen if it's just us . . . Oh well, someone will walk in on this eventually . . . hopefully . . . any second now . . .

Oh dear Merlin, just kill me now and end this.

"YES! IT'S BLOODY FANCIFUL!" A voice called from the room next door. It was Hugo and he sounded like he was just woken up from a nap or something, "NOW SHUT UP SO THAT I CAN GET SOME FREAKING SHUT EYE!"

Never thought I'd be saying this, but _thank you_ Huge-O.

Later when I calmed down, I went searching for Al. You'll never guess where I found him. That's right ladies and gents, Albus Severus Potter was in his kitchen raiding the fridge (that muggle thing that I _still_ don't understand).

Shocker? I know.

I poked his back to gain his attention.

"Hey, Al." I said, preparing for him to turn around. I twisted my hands together behind my back and rocked on the balls of my feet cutely.

Oh, yeah. You can't resist this.

His only response was a muffled, "Hayff, Elifha."

"What're you up to?"

"Eatim'"

I kept rocking on my feet, "What're you eating?"

He poked his head out of the fridge for a second to look at me. His mouth was completely full, and there was something that looked like chocolate around it. My eyes narrowed in suspicion. He swallowed his food noisily.

"Nothing . . ."

I decided I would overlook his apparent lying and actually talk about what I came here to talk about, "Alright . . . whatever. Look, I found you so that I could ask you if you wanted to help me prepare the funeral for Paul the Fifteenth."

". . . You mean clean the toilet?"

"Yes, exactly."

He stomped his foot childishly, "But I cleaned it last time! Isn't it Rose's turn?" As discreetly as he could, he shut the refrigerator door while quickly stuffing something behind his back. He then promptly wiped off the chocolate stuff on his face with the sleeve of his shirt. I watched this all occur, slightly transfixed.

"Well, you see, she actually claims that _she_ did it . . . last time . . ." I trailed off, too distracted by the mystery of what was behind his back, "What are you hiding?"

"Who said anyone's hiding anything?"

"Don't give me that sass!" I retaliated, "I just saw you put something behind your back."

"You're delusional."

"Normally, I would agree," I began, "But this time I'm _positive_."

"Are you _sure_?"

"Yes."

"Would you bet your own life on that?"

"Yes."

"Would you bet your children's life on that?"

"Yes."

"Would you bet Paul the _Sixteenth's_ life on that?"

"Yes."

"Holy crap, you _are_ sure."

I rolled my eyes. Sometimes I wonder if James' stupidity ever rubs off on Al.

I stepped to Al's side, craning my neck to see behind his back, but he quickly turned so that his back was up against the fridge. I tried again, this time reaching my arm behind him so that I could grab whatever it was he was hiding. To get my hand away from it, he stretched the arm that was holding it out a bit . . . and I could see it now . . . it was a case of . . . nütella.

"Wait, that's _my_ nütella!"

Al sniffed as if he were offended or something, "No it's not! I found it! Finders keepers, losers weepers."

"Oh, _somebody's_ gonna be weeping but it sure as hell is not going to be me!" I pulled my hair back in a quick ponytail to put emphasis on the fact that I was going to kick his butt if he didn't give me my nütella back.

Al stared frantically between me and the nütella for twenty whole seconds, and then ran for it.

I guess he chose nütella over his life.

Understandable.

I zoomed after him on a raging warpath. Albus may be the Seeker for the Gryffindor quidditch team, but without his broom he's really not the fast—or, at least, I'm faster. He jumped over furniture, screaming like a little girl, and even though I had to go around the couches and tables and stuff, I still caught up to him.

I tackled him, pinning him to the ground by placing both of my legs on either side of his torso.

"Please don't kill me, Eliza," He begged, offering me back the nütella, "I couldn't resist the hazelnut, chocolaty goodness!"

"I'll think about it," I replied, snatching the nütella out of his hands, opening it, sticking my finger inside and placing it in my mouth. Oh, Merlin. I've been dreaming about this. Did I die and go to heaven? Wait, probably not. I have a feeling that I'm going to go to hell. Oh, well. I suppose that this is the closest I'll get to heaven then, so I better relish it while I can.

"Erm . . . Eliza," Al began sheepishly, "Can you get off of me now?"

I was too busy stuffing my face with nütella to pay him any attention, or want to get up for that matter.

"Seriously," He said, sounding a little more desperate this time, "You're sitting on my bladder, and I _really_ have to pee."

I ignored him again, but I could tell that he was getting really frustrated. It was really really amusing, actually. That is, until he did something completely and totally unexpected. He grunted in frustration, placing his hands on my waist and heaving. He pulled me off of him and towards his side, rolling on top of me and putting _his_ legs on either side of _my_ torso.

"Meep!"

The nütella rolled out of my hands, and I stared up at him in complete shock. He seemed to be feeling as surprised by his actions as I was. I really don't think he ever meant to act so boldly and roll on top of me, sort of like how I never really expect him to do so either.

Our eyes connected, and I could feel the weight of needing to know what he was thinking pressing itself down on my brain. You'd think that eyes as bright and green as his would be easy to read. Quite the opposite, actually.

Al cleared his throat, snapping out of whatever it was he was in, and he slowly got up, offering me his hand. I took it, still completely dazed by the whole ordeal. I watched him carefully as he nervously put his hand on the back of his head, fingers grazing through that dark hair. He chuckled lightly, giving me the best smile he could muster up.

Well, this is awkward.

"As I said before," Al started, "I have to pee. So I'll go do that right now."

Way to break the tension, Al.

"Okay." I couldn't really think of anything else to say.

So he waved weakly and left the room, avoiding my eyes. I stood there, unsure of what to do. I could wait for him like I was aching to do, but that would most likely only make things more awkward. But if I left, then he may get offended. Oh, who am I kidding? He won't get offended! He knows me too well to get offended!

So, with a huff, I turned on my heel and headed for the front door.

. . . Only to be stopped by someone calling for me from the top of the staircase.

"Eliza!"

It was James.

_Great_.

I groaned, not even trying to hide it from him, "What do you want, James?"

He slid down the railing of the stairs, grabbed my arm, turned slightly on the spot, and then suddenly I felt like my body was being pressed through a small tube. Though it wasn't at all painful, it wasn't exactly the best feeling in the world. I shut my eyes through it all, and then, when I opened them, I found myself stumbling backwards in what appeared to be James' room.

"What the heck, you stupid mofo!"

"I have to talk to you," He explained, "Privately."

"You could of just _walked_ me up the stairs and into your room, bozo."

"Like you would have sat happily with that if I had even tried!"

I ignored him, glancing around his room. It was littered with dirty boxers, and I scrunched up my face in disgust wondering how long they've been sitting there when they could just easily be cleaned with a washing spell. His bed looks like it hasn't been made in years, and there were a number of strange objects strewn across the room.

But none of that was as noticeable as the door. The door that was closed. And locked. And had a huge desk placed in front of it, preventing it from being opened.

"James," I tried my best not to sound frightened and failed epically, "Why is the door locked? And more importantly, why is there a desk in front of it?"

"Because I need to talk to you," He said, "And this is the only way to ensure that you don't try to run away, obviously."

"I don't feel comfortable—"

"Nuh nuh nuh!" He tutted, cutting through my plea like a true idiot, "I'm going to be the one talking here! So shut it."

"But—"

"Nuh!"

"James—"

"Nuh!"

"Listen for a sec—"

"NUH!"

I gave up, shutting my mouth, crossing my arms and pouting. He paused for a moment, to make sure that I was done before speaking, "Now, I told you last night that I was going to help you out with my brother, and I intend to go through with that. So, I've come up with this plan. I call it, plan G.A.T.H.S.W.E."

I stared at him blankly, "What does that stand for, exactly?"

"Get Al To Have Sex With Eliza."

"Oh sweet Merlin," I said, smacking my hand to my forehead for—what was it?—the _third_ time that day, "James, listen to me and listen to me _carefully_," I told him slowly, so that he would understand, "I do not want to have sex with your brother. I'd like to get married before anything like that ever happens, thank you very much."

James' eyebrows furrowed, "Bugger. And it took me forever to come up with that name."

"You'll get over it."

His eyes lit up suddenly, "Alright, how about G.A.T.M.A.T.H.S.W.E?"

I sighed in frustration, wanting nothing more than to put a thousand miles between me and this insane boy, "And what does _that_ one stand for?"

"Get Al To Marry And _Then_ Have Sex With Eliza."

"Would you stop with the sex, James!" I exclaimed, "My virgin mind would rather not think about that right now! And I know that you're really siked about helping me out with this, but if you don't mind I'd rather you _not_ help at all."

James laughed, but I really didn't know what he found so amusing.

"Eliza, you are _so_ amusing."

Well, that answered my question, I suppose.

"That wasn't meant to be a joke." I replied, haughtily.

He laughed harder, lightly touching his finger to the tip of my nose, "You—stop that! We both know that when you say you don't want my help, you're really dying for it and you're just trying to be polite and stuff."

I stared at him like he was crazy, "_Or,_" I began sarcastically, "When I say that I don't want your help, I _mean_ I don't want your bloody help!"

He chuckled some more and I had to strongly resist the urge to smack him right across the face, "Whatever, Eliza," He laughed, "I just won't help you then," He winked here, "So I guess that means I _won't_ be planning out a new scheme to get you together with my brother. Oh, darn. And I was really looking forward to it." He winked again.

I decided I would play along for now, because I really wanted to put his door in between himself and me.

"Alright, then." I said, trying to match my tone to his. I scrambled to the door, hoping to Merlin that he would follow and let me out of this prison cell he calls his room.

"One more thing, Eliza." He said, grabbing my arm and pulling me back to where I was standing before.

I couldn't give a flying poo about anything you say, Potter. Now, LET ME OUT OF THIS GODFORSAKEN ROOM!

He made sure that my eyes were on his before continuing, "Don't worry about Malfoy, I'll take care of him. He won't be attempting to hit on you anymore after I'm through with him. And that, my friend, is a promise."

I froze, my eyes widenening.

Did he just say what I though he said?

I think he did.

_Crap._

"Oh," I said after a moment, recovering from the initial shock of the entire situation, "You . . . know about that?"

He rolled his eyes, "I told you yesterday, Eliza. I know you think I'm really stupid, but believe me when I say that I'm more perceptive than you may think—at least, when it really matters. And you're like a sister to me, and considering that you don't have an overbearing, protective older brother to watch over you, I've found myself striving to fill those shoes for you."

My eyes softened, "Thanks, James. And you're like a brother to me, too." I told him sincerely. And then I did something that I don't think I've ever thought I'd do in my entire life. I wrapped my arms around his body and pulled him into a gigantic bear hug. He patted my head awkwardly.

I set him down and he walked to the door. He pulled out his wand, and shrunk the desk, placing it in his pocket for now, and then he opened the door for me like a gentleman. I left with a big smile on my face, _actually_ waving goodbye to the bloke.

Oh Merlin, what has gotten into me?

You're not supposed to _wave_ at James! Bad Eliza, BAD!

But, you know, James Potter isn't half as bad as I thought.

. . . But that still doesn't mean I want him 'helping' me win over his brother.

I groaned, realizing that he had a vital piece of information dangling over my head. Information that I never even could have suspected to be there. He knew about Malfoy. And _no _one can _ever_ find out about that. Not Dom, not Al, not Mr. Potter, not McGonagall, not Mrs. Norris, not Nearly Headless Nick, and _especially_ not Rose.

That would be bad.

_Very_ bad.

_Extremely_ bad.

. . . Help?


	5. Suffocate

**Chapter Five**

"Paul the Fifteenth lived a short, yet wonderful life—"

I sniffled as Rose spoke, grabbing some of the toilet paper off of the role and wiping at my eyes furiously. I had an entire garden of flower petals in my arms in honor of my poor fish, and a few fell to the ground in reaction to my movements. I had a black dress on, in honor of my beloved Paul, but I was the only one. I was always the only one crying my eyes out. My friends don't know how to properly mourn, obviously.

"—and may his life be remembered forever and always. Now, would you all be so kind as to say a few words to Paul before we begin with the . . . er, burial."

I stepped forward first.

"Paul the Fifteenth . . ." I stopped for the dramatic effect, dumping the pound of flower petals into the toilet, "Don't tell the other Paul's up there in fishy heaven, but you've been my favorite goldfish so far. I'm going to really miss you, and I lov—"

Someone knocked on the door, interrupting my speech.

"Are you guys almost done?" It was Malfoy, "I have to go to the bathroom really bad!"

"GO HOME, MALFOY!" I yelled back. I waited for a moment to see if he left and then started to speak again, "I love you like I love no other, Paul—" Except Al, of course, "—May you rest in peace." I stepped backwards, wiping another tear out of my eye.

I know what you're thinking.

That was _the_ most pathetic speech I've ever heard, right?

Well, you know what?

GO SUCK AN EGG.

I'm on my period, I'm hormonal, and I can't stop thinking about food, so _yeah_ my speech is gonna suck.

Too much information?

TOO BAD.

"Anyone else?" Rose inquired of the few people in the bathroom. Me, her, Al, and even James. Yeah, I invited James. What can I say? The dude is starting to grow on me . . . you know, this should probably worry me and yet I find myself weirdly content about it.

"No one?" She asked for the second time. No one replied. They must be feeling the same way as I am. Choked up. Sad. Teary-eyed. Hormonal . . . well, maybe not hormonal.

"Good!" She chimed, cheerfully pushing the thing on the side of the toilet (what do you call it anyways, a _lever_?) and flushing it. I watched sadly as Paul's dead body swirled around the toilet and into the dark abyss of London's nasty sewers, "Now let's get out of here! It reeks!"

". . . Sorry." James mumbled.

We all (minus Al 'cause he's probably used to it) shot James a disgusted look and left the bathroom. On our way out, Malfoy ran past us, hands in between his legs as if he were about to burst with pee.

What?

He _was_.

Well I don't care if that sounds disgusting, it's the _truth_.

GOT THAT!

Good.

"Hey, Eliza," Rose started as we walked downstairs to the Potter's kitchen to have breakfast, "So are you heading to your house before we set on out to King's Cross, or are you meeting up with your parents there?" She sat at the table, stuffing her face with the plate of food Mrs. P-rizzle had set out for James. I took Al's plate. The two brothers stared at us in outrage but made no effort to steal back their plates.

"Go back to my house?" I repeated sarcastically, "Forget that. Too much effort. Nah, I'll just mooch a ride from you guys."

Have I mentioned that it's September first?

. . . Well, I probably should then.

. . . Today is September first.

And you know what that means right!

HOGWARTS, BABY!

I'm pumped.

I miss old McGonagall and her shenanigans.

"Good morning kids," Mr. P-rizzle told us, walking through the door and grabbing a glass of pumpkin juice. He winked at us like we were best buddies. And, of course, we_ are_ . . . well at least, _I_ am. Harry Potter is _the_ coolest person on the face of the planet, "Ready for another great year of school?"

". . . Go away, dad." James told him, highly embarrassed—'cept I don't really see what's so embarrassing.

"Love you too, James."

He waved at us, leaving the room with his pumpkin juice in hand. As he left, Malfoy came in. Rose was exceptionally excited about this because the only available seat at the table was right in between her and Al.

Well, at least he couldn't sit next to me.

"Thanks for making me almost pee my pants, _guys._"

"_Guys_?" Al inquired sarcastically, "Don't you mean,_ Eliza?_"

". . . Right," And then Malfoy turned to me, "Thanks for making me almost pee my pants, _Eliza_." When everyone was paying attention to something else, he winked at me before taking a seat next to Rose and Al.

"You're welcome." I sneered at him before adding, "And besides, you practically brought this upon yourself. You should really think about your actions a little more, Malfoy. Obviously, if you kill my fish then you're going to almost pee your pants."

". . . I'm not following that logic." Al told me, eyebrows scrunched up in confusion adorably.

"It makes sense in her mind," James pointed out, "That's all that matters, right?"

"Yes, exactly James!" I smiled.

Everyone stared at us with their jaws hanging open as James and I giggled to ourselves.

"Since when have you two been all congenial?" Rose asked incredulously.

"Congenial!" I cried, "I don't know the meaning of the word."

(I really don't).

"Oh, come on," Al said, joining in on the conversation, "Why're you two acting all . . . chummy?"

"Maybe they're secretly dating or something," Malfoy piped up, clearly trying to be teasing. But his eyes were dark with jealousy. Good gracious, Malfoy! Just give up on me already! Go for Rose. She's obviously and creepily in love with you. JUST LEAVE ME ALONE.

"Aww!" Rose cried, "How cute."

I narrowed my eyes. Rose knows for a fact that I'm completely smitten by Al, so why in the poop is she agreeing with Malfoy?"

I met Al's eyes, trying to decipher them, but I couldn't see anything in them but his own amusement, "Yeah," He agreed, "You guys are sort of cute together!"

"We are _not_ dating," I ensured.

"Am I that disgusting, Eliza?" James covered his heart with his hand in mock hurt.

"No!" I insisted, "It's just you're . . . like a brother to me."

"You're just saying that, Liza!" Albus chimed, "Deep down, you're probably in love with him!"

. . . Well great. The love of my life thinks I've got it bad for his _brother._

Can this day get any better?

Yes, it can actually!

I GET PAUL THE SIXTEENTH TODAY!

Gah, I'm so excited! I almost forgot, what with the funeral and Malfoy's annoyingness. But as soon as I ran through the barrier between platforms nine and ten, I remembered . . . mostly because my parents were standing there with a tank in their arms. Inside was a goldfish, still in its bag like they just bought it our something.

I'm in love already!

I ran towards my family as the Weasley's and Potter's bid farewell to their family.

"Elizabeth!" My mum exclaimed, holding her arms out in invitation for a hug. I accepted, but pulled away quickly so that I could snatch my brand new Paul reincarnate from my father's arms. He chuckled at my enthusiasm, messing up my bangs playfully.

I looked up at my parents sheepishly. Mum had her hand on her hip, and for an old person she looked really attractive. I can only hope that I share the same fate—what, with being her daughter and all that shtuff.

Knowing my luck, however, I'll probably be covered in warts by the time I'm thirty-two.

I shuddered.

Ew.

"You know, Elizabeth," Mum said, mockingly stern while pointing a playful finger in my face, "You could act at least _a little_ more excited to see us, considering this is the only couple of minutes you get with us until Christmas break."

"Who's the teenager in this family again" I asked sarcastically, but with a smile on my face, "Sheesh, I thought _I_ was supposed to be the melodramatic one?"

"You are." Both mum and dad ensured.

I shot them a glare.

Hoes.

"You weren't supposed to _agree_."

"Then don't give us the option."

"Well frankly, wonderful parents," I began as sarcastically as I could, "I think I gave you _two_ options there. A) You could have agreed, like you did, or B) you could have told me that I was just wrong and that I'm the most beautiful and talented daughter you could have ever asked for."

"And the most modest?" Dad piped up, smiling goofily.

"Yes!"

"We're very sorry, Elizabeth," Mum said, pulling me into a hug while playing with my hair, "You definitely _aren't_ melodramatic. Why, you're the most beautiful, talented and modest daughter we could have ever asked for." She smiled at me, and her eyes sparkled with mischief, something I inherited from her.

"Thank you!"

At that moment, the big red train's engine began to roar, signaling the families to hastily say their goodbyes so that the students could board. I gave my mum and dad another hug, kissed them both on the cheek, and then trudged off with my trunk and Paul the Sixteenth. I could find Rose and Al through all the swarming bodies headed for the train, so I just got on, figuring that I'd meet up with them on the train.

I walked down the narrow corridors of the train happily, humming to myself.

. . . That is, until someone ripped Paul the Sixteenth out of my arms and pushed me unceremoniously into an empty compartment, backing me up into the wall.

I'll give you three guesses as to who it is.

And you better not get it wrong.

It's a no brainer.

Frick! No, it's not James!

What are you? Stupid?

You should have only needed _one_ guess for this, you idiot.

It's _Malfoy._

Duh!

"Well hello there, Eliza." He purred into my ear. I pushed him away from me as best I could, but Imma wimp and it didn't really do anything. This is about when I curse myself for never going to gym when I could have . . . that would've been tons of help in situations like these. Plus, I wouldn't have that slight flab on my tummy, and Rose would no longer feel the need to poke my stomach every two seconds!

"Get off me, Malfoy." I spat, trying to get across how repulsed I was of him, "You're creepy."

"And you're gorgeous."

"Flattery will get you nowhere."

It really wouldn't. He disgusts me.

"You're right." Malfoy agreed, attempting so very hard to look 'sexy' or something. Quite frankly, he just looks like he's on crack, "Flattering you requires speaking, and I can think of something much more entertaining for my mouth to be doing right now."

"Oh, Merlin." I squealed, "You're trying to seduce me, aren't you!"

I honestly don't know why that came out of my mouth.

_Obviously_, he's trying to seduce you, Eliza. When is he _not_ trying to seduce you, you bumbling bahooka!

"Is it working?"

"No!" I cried, "Now go jump off this train!"

"I have a better idea . . ." He was dangerously close. Now's a splendid time to panic, don't you think? He was getting closer with every second that ticked by, and I was about ready to have a heart attack out of pure fear. You'd think that a guy who was so infatuated with you would at least _care_ about your feelings and such.

"STOP!" A male voice cried, the door to the compartment sliding open violently, "In the name of love!"

My wide eyes, which had been shut in repulsion, turned to the person who had barged in. It was James, and he was posed with his knee bent and his arms spread out like a ninja. Malfoy jumped away from me immediately, knocking his legs into the seat behind him and falling into it.

"James!" I cried happily, running to him so that he was in between me and the blonde pervert. I ran my hands through my hair as the panic began to settle down a bit, "Thank Merlin you're here!"

"Er . . . hi, James?" Malfoy tried lamely.

"Save it, you filthy swine! You were just pulling moves on my baby sister!"

I jumped at the term he used for me, but I could feel my heart warming. When James said he thought of me as a little sister yesterday, I wasn't entirely sure if I should have believed him or not, so just hearing this makes me happy. I've always wanted a sibling, even if it means settling for James Potter.

Of course, this in no way makes me related to Al.

I don't believe in that sort of thing. It's sick and twisted, and too kinky for my taste.

. . . Er, forget I ever said that.

"Your . . . baby sister?"

"Yup!"

"James, were you hit on the head recently?"

"No!"

"Last time I checked, _Lily_ was your baby sister."

"She's my _other_ baby sister. But you're straying away from the topic at hand, and right now that topic is me kicking your white, scrawny butt!"

"Oh yeah?" Malfoy bit back, crossing his arms across his chest and standing up so that James wouldn't tower over him so much, "I'd like to see you try."

"Is that a _challenge_?" James inquired threateningly.

I grabbed his shoulder, tugging on it as roughly as I could, "James, stop. Don't start a fight with him; that's what he wants." James looked back into my pleading eyes and, after a moment with his jaw clenched and his facing turning red, he nodded, pushing me out of the compartment, grabbing Paul from where Malfoy placed him, and leading me down the train.

"That was a close one, Eliza." James muttered to me, "Why didn't you yell for help or something?"

Oh.

I never really thought of that.

Why does it seem like James is getting smarter, and I'm just getting stupider as the days go on? It's really beginning to worry me.

"I suppose . . ." I began, "It never really occurred to me that that was an option. I'll remember that next time, though."

"There better not be a next time if that boy ever wants to see the light of day again."

He pulled me into a compartment, where I found Al, Rose, Huge-O, and Dom already seated and talking and laughing cheerfully. They greeted us as we walked in, a little shocked that we were still acting so friendly towards one another . . . a little _too_ schocked.

"Why does it look like you two just got done snogging?" Rose asked bluntly.

Well, she's certainly not one to feed around the bush.

I glanced at James. His hair looked messier than usual, and that's probably because of the way he pushed opened the compartment door and jumped inside like an idiotic ninja. I ran my hands through my hair again, and realized that it probably _was_ a bit messy, what with all my fussing and stuff.

Oh, Merlin. How do I explain this without breaking Rose's heart?

I think I'll begin panicking again.

Yes, that sounds good.

"Well, you see . . ." James began slowly, "Eliza thought it would be fun to stick her head out the window while the train was going so fast, so I thought I would join her."

I resisted the urge to smack my hand to my forehead. I take back what I said about how James was getting smarter. He's _definitely _the same dunderhead he's always been. Just because I like him more now, doesn't change a thing about his mental abilities.

"Er . . ." Huge-O said, giving James a weird look, "Alright?"

"Shut up, Huge-O!" I almost yelled, "It was fun! You should try it sometime!"

"I'll pass."

"Then you're a loser."

"How does that make me a loser?"

"How does it _not_ make you a loser?"

"_What_?"

"Exactly!"

"You're talking nonsense!"

"That's what I do!"

"Not it's not, Eliza." Rose piped up, "You only talk nonsense when you're lying."

"Really?" Dom asked aphetically, "Because it seems like to me that she's _always_ lying then."

"Stuff it, Dom." I snapped.

Rose gasped, as if something clicked in her head, "Wait, if you're lying—So you two _were_ snogging, weren't you! You hoebags! That's practically vomit inducing!"

Al seemed to tense at this, but it may have been my imagination. It's pretty likely that it was, you know, considering that I often fantasize about him being incredibly jealous of some hot stud flirting with me only for him to end up break the stud's nose and pulling me into a broom cupboard for some steamy snogging time.

"Of course we weren't snogging!" I cried, practically begging with my eyes for them to believe me.

"She's like my sister!"

"That's what they _all_ say." Huge-O pointed out unhelpfully.

"Why are you _here_, Hugo?" I asked rather rudely. He just winked in response.

Curse you, Hugo Weasley. They've got a really dark place reserved for people like you when they die, you know.

"Why am _I_ here?" Dom asked to know in particular, "It's getting bloody annoying in this compartment all of a sudden." She stared at me purposefully with such a look that clearly indicated that it would do us all some good if I was just never _born_.

Well I _was_, so tough nuts.

"Why must every train ride to Hogwarts be such a headache?" Al asked in a playful tone that broke the growing tension. He smiled at me and Rose, and I wonder if he was thinking of the day when they first met me. I bet he was. I _hope_ he was.

"Because it wouldn't be the same without the headache," Rose replied.

And then she scooted over so that I could squeeze in between her and Al, and James sat next to Hugo, clearly enjoying the ride. There was peace and quiet for a few moments, where we all sat and stared at one another. It was really awkward, actually, but I sort of liked it. I watched with a fond smile on my face as Paul swam to the edges of his little bag in his tank, looking at me as if asking what in the poop was going on.

Oh, Paul.

You're adorable.

"Alright!" Dom yelled, breaking the silence and glaring at everyone in the compartment, "Who farted!"

"What are you talking about, Dom?" Al said, "I don't smell anyth—Oh, sweet baby Merlin does that reek!" He covered his nose with his shirt.

" . . . Sorry." James said for the second time that day. A disgusted groan rippled through the small space like a wave, and, as we all followed Al's lead and covered our noses, Al cracked the window a little.

Oh, how I l_ove_ train rides with the Potter/Weasley family.

***A/N: Alright, so I feel pretty lame for having this be the first AN I've put in this story. I know that when I read stories I love reading what the author has to say because it gives me a feel for who they are.. and I bet you guys all think I suck or that I'm extremely antisocial and awkward.. or something. Which, I am, but I can pretend like I'm not.**

**Anywayys.. I'm new to but I've been on harrypotterfanfiction for quite a while. This story is actually up on that site with.. I think 9 chapters already.**

**Sorry about my suckish updating. Since I don't use ff as much, I tend to forget about updating here AND on hpff. I'll be better, promise!**

**Thanks for all those who've reviewed. Your input is muchly appreciated :)**

**-still_fly 3**


	6. Twisted

**Chapter Six**

"Oh _God_," Rose let out in exasperation, not even attempting to obscure her voice, "They get funkier looking every damn year."

"Miss _Weasley_!" McGonagall scolded from across the room, glaring daggers at Rose and jabbing her thumb viscously towards the first years as if to tell us that they could hear her. Judging by the frightened glances they're giving Rose, I'd say that they probably could. Rose shrugged, digging her spoon into her mashed potatoes and stuffing her face full of the stuff. The truth about it all is that McGonagall is probably dying of amusement on the inside.

She loves us.

She just doesn't like to show it.

I glazed over the gigantic room. Looking toward the Professor's table, I noticed a young looking blondie chatting with McGonagall animatedly. My eyes popped because—hello—she's too cute and . . . not wrinkly to be a teacher here. Other than that, all the Professors looked pretty much the same. I let in a deep breath in content.

I'm really glad to be back at Hogwarts. I've really missed this place. I've missed the Bloody Baron, that stupid trick step on the moving staircases, I've missed that freaky Hufflepuff in our year that always picks his nose, and most importantly I've missed—

"Check out Goodbody's good body. I swear she gets more attractive every year."

—_not_ that.

I turned to the stupid butt with a glare set on my features—I mean, _seriously. _Why can't you idiots come up with a different joke?—a glare that I'm practically _positive_ will make the poor bloke pee his pants. However, as soon as I saw the familiar smirks of my home boys, Demetrius Wood and Louis Weasley, my face softened and I sent them a playful wink.

. . . Hey, just 'cause I'm in love with Al doesn't mean I can't shamelessly flirt.

"Whassup, Demi?" I asked across the table, "Weasle?"

Weasle was about to say something, but Demetrius cut him off, "I haven't seen you in a while, Goodbody."

"I _know,_" I said back to him adorably, "What in the poop is up with that?"

I think saying the word 'poop' there may have ruined my adorable charade. It was fun while it lasted, at least.

"Yeah, I was thinking maybe we could . . . _get to know _each other a little better sometime this week." He winked. I was about to reject him, but then I realized how long it's been since I've had a decent snog . . . plus, Demetrius is pretty cute.

"Abso—"

I was cut off by Rose elbowing me in the stomach. I whined, turning to her with a glare, "_What_?"

"Have you no _shame!_" She glanced at Al who was witnessing this whole thing. I rolled my eyes. Like Al cared if I was flirting with boys anyways. Or snogging them senseless for that matter.

"No, but neither do you."

"Yeah, but at least_ I'm _smart enough to warn you about this stuff!"

"So what are you saying? That I'm _stupid_?"

"That's exactly what I'm saying."

"Who the poop do you think you are!"

Again with the poop.

"Your best friend."

"Best friend's don't call each other _stupid._"

"Best friends are _truthful_ to one another, and honey, hate to break it ya, but that's the brutal truth."

". . . Go home."

Someone cleared their throat, cutting through our pointless conversation. I turned back to Demetrius, the one who cleared his throat, and smiled cutely at him in silent apology. Rose is just jealous that all these studs are drawn to me like . . . like . . . like . . . something that draws things in.

"So is that a . . . yes?"

"Y—"

"Hey Eliza!"

I jumped in fright as someone put their hand on my shoulder, scooting me over so that they could sit right next to me. I looked up at the perpetrator and, _surprise surprise_, it was James with a large goblet of pumpkin juice and two straws.

"Watch this!" He exclaimed, sticking the straws in each nostril and blowing with all his might into his pumpkin juice. I saw bubbles rise to the top.

. . . I think I just threw up a little in my mouth.

". . . That's _really_ something, James . . . but I really don't care." I turned back to Demi, the smile back on my face. He looked completely amused so I knew I still had him, "Anyways Demi, I would lov—"

"Hey Albus!" James called to his brother, waving his arms around like an idiot to get his attention. Al turned to him with a bored expression on his face, "You wanna go to the pitch sometime this week and have a little match against me and Eliza?"

"No."

"And quite frankly, I don't either!" I pointed out angrily with my finger in his face. I turned back to Demetrius _again_, "Anywho, as I was saying before this bozo interrupted me—"

"What Al? You scared of a little competition?" James asked tauntingly, leaning in front of me so that Demetrius was blocked from my sight, "C'mon you can have Rose on your team."

"Rose _sucks_."

"Hey!"

I sent Demetrius a pleading look. He shook his head, mouthing an '_it's okay'_ and turning back to his friends so that they could joke around and stuff. There goes my much needed snog.

"Yeah, but so do I, and I'll proudly admit it. You afraid that you're going to get owned by a scrawny little _girl_?"

"I'll have you know that I could take his pathetic ass any day!" I defended.

"Oh _really_?" Al asked, suddenly amused. He raised his eyebrows playfully and smiled, and it sort of kind of made my heart melt into pudding. And I don't think that's even possible, that's how great his smile is. "You're on, Eliza. Wednesday, after lunch. Prepared to get the floor mopped with you."

I squeaked, "But that would ruin my hair!"

"He didn't mean it literally, idiot." Dom sneered from her seat across from us and next to her brother. I had almost forgotten that the skank was still with us.

". . . Go home."

"Is that your come back to everything?" Rose asked, giggling.

"You can go home too!"

"_Whatever_, Eliza."

It was then that I felt a tap on my shoulder.

"_What!_" I snapped at James.

"Can I talk to you for a second?" He snapped right back. I hesitated for a moment, surprised at his tone of voice. Is it just me, or does it seem like James is angry at me right now? Isn't he the kid who basically worships me all the time? Or is that Professor Flitick? I shrugged it off, deciding that his anger wouldn't stop me from being a complete git.

"What does it look like we're doing? The Macarena?"

"Can I talk to you _privately?"_ He amended.

"How would we even do that? We're in the middle of a bloody feast and we're not allowed to le—_okay._"

He put his right hand on the small of my back, his left on my head and pushed me with all his might underneath the table. I stumbled on my way down and my face collided with some dude's extremely hairy legs. Don't the guys usually wear pants?—Oh, wait. That's a girl.

". . . Sorry," I mumbled to her as she looked under the table to see what the hubbub was. I even held back my gagging, which is a major accomplishment, I think.

James was soon underneath here as well, and I glared at him.

"Are you insane?" I asked him heatedly, "You don't just go around pushing people underneath tables and into some man-woman's extremely hairy legs."

"Who're you calling a man-woman?" The girl asked angrily, her head popping underneath the table again.

Erm . . . I may have said that a little louder than I should have. Oopsie.

"_You_," James told her angrily and slightly obliviously too—I mean, this girl looks like she could beat me to a pulp. Whatever a pulp is, "Obviously. Now, can you excuse us? We're trying to have a private conversation here."

This girl was all up in my grill now, her slimy nose was practically touching mine and she was glaring at me with the same intensity I usually save so that I could glare at Malfoy. I looked away from her eyes, whose eyelashes could seriously use some mascara, and I noticed that her fists were clenched like she were about to punch me in the face.

Thanks James. You gave me _another_ hater.

I already have enough as it is!

"You wanna try saying that again?" She inquired venomously.

"I thought I told you to beat it!" James cried, poking her in the back viciously.

Honestly James, you suck at being an overprotective older bro. If anything, you're just putting my life in _more_ danger as the seconds go on.

"Oh, I'll _beat it_," She glanced at me, her eyes angry and her smirk completely sinister, "Just give me two minutes."

"Don't make me use this!" James practically shouted, holding out his straw like a sword.

"I'm not afraid of your stupid straw." She told him smoothly. She snatched the straw right out of his hand and stuffed it in her mouth, eating it . . . like it was cake or something. Oh my god! That's probably what she's going to do to me! My worst fear is going to become a reality! I'M GOING TO BE EATEN ALIVE BY SOME CRAZY MAN-WOMAN CANNIBAL.

Have mercy on me here, Merlin!

Think about this, _please_.

Do I really deserve this?

. . . No one answer that. And yes, that means _you_ too.

"Ha!" James exclaimed almost joyfully. "You think you got the best of me there, didn't you? Well little do you know, sweetcheeks, that I've got _two_ straws!" And with that, he pulled the other straw from who knows where, stuck it in his mouth, aimed towards the psycho man-woman and blew a spitball right into her left eye.

"MY EYE!"

Her manly hands flew to her eyeball, rubbing frantically in attempt to sooth it.

"I CAN'T SEE ANYTHING! SOMEONE HELP ME!"

"What is going on here?" A stern voice asked, peeking their grey, wrinkly head underneath the table. I smiled weakly at McGonagall, waving pathetically. I only now noticed how the Great Hall had become completely silent except for the scene that was brewing underneath this table. Everyone _at_ the table had their own heads stuffed underneath here to watch Elizabeth Goodbody—_once again_—make a complete fool of herself.

"I dropped . . . my straw?" I said dolefully, snatching the straw from James' mouth.

"That's _my _straw!"

"Not anymore it's not—"

"Detention. All three of you. And someone take Elizabeth to the hospital wing."

"But I don't _need_ to go to the Hospital Wing, Micky." I pointed out.

"Not _you_," She replied, acting completely annoyed—_acting_ being the key word there. She loves me, as I have already told you. She nodded to the man-woman,_ "_Her name is Elizabeth too. Don't you know that, Goodybody? You've had numerous classes with her over the years."

"Er . . ."

James snickered.

"What's so funny?" I inquired snootily.

"You have the same name as . . . _her._" James snickered again.

I punched him in the nose.

. . . At least I started off the school year with a bang.

"_What_ was all that about, exactly?" Albus asked as we made our way to the Gryffie common room. James was with us, clutching his nose—which was bleeding by the way—in fury. He insisted that he should go to the hospital wing as well, but _McGonagall_ insisted that he deserved it and that he should just suck it up.

Oh, good ol' McGonagall.

"James was being an idiot." I stated simply.

"Wasb nob!" He cried, "I wasb goin' to balk to you aboub somebing of exbreme imporbance unbil we were rudely inberrupbed!"

"What?" Rose asked playfully, "Were you too going to plan out when you were going to snog again . . . or something?"

"Oh dear, Merlin." I said, smacking my hand to my forehead, "For the last time! I _have_ never, _will _never snog James Potter. I don't even want to _think_ about it." And of course, just saying that made the very _disgusting _image come to my mind. Out of pure distaste, goose bumps trickled down my arms. I cringed.

"Riiiight." Rose agreed in such a way that told me blatantly that she _did not_ agree at all.

Ho.

We said the password to the Fat Lady once we approached her, and climbed through the godforsaken hole. We immediately migrated toward the couch and the armchairs so that we could relax, kicking the stupid first years off of them.

"Can I just ask a question?" Al said, sort of softly, "If you guys _aren't_ secretly in love with each other . . . then why do you guys suddenly talk to each other like you're good ol' pals?" He leaned forward in his armchair, placing his head on his fists and staring at us intently. I glanced sideways at James.

"Well . . ." I began, deciding to be truthful—or _slightly_ truthful at least, "I really don't know. I guess it's 'cause I've always wanted someone to be like a brother to me . . . and James offered that in an idiotic yet sweet way."

". . . Am I not like a brother to you?"

My eyes popped.

"Erm . . . well, you see—I-I, y-yes—n-no?" I don't even know what the crap I was saying at this point, "You're my _best friend_, Albus. There's a difference."

"Is there really?"

More than you freaking know.

"Hey Rose!" James asked so quietly that I almost didn't hear him, "Leb's go to the kibben! I'm hungry."

"Alright . . . fatty."

They got up and left us there, just staring at one another. Why, oh why, was it so impossible to read Al's eyes. They're so green and _open_. But they're not _empty_. So why couldn't I decipher his thoughts like I can with Rose, or-or James? His own _brother_?

"This is awkward." I blurted.

"Is it?" He asked, "I didn't notice."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

Silence.

"Well _now_ it is," He said, chuckling, "Thanks a lot, Liza."

I smiled, "No problamo."

We laughed a little, and when it faded away into the fireplace, Albus smiled at me softly. "You know," He said, reaching over to mess up my hair, "I'm glad I'm not like a brother to you, 'cause you're not like a sister to me either. You're just my best friend too."

My heart, which had sped up a little bit, sank. _Just_ a best friend, but not a _sister_?

What the heck was that supposed to mean?

"Well," He started, pausing so that he could sneak in a yawn, "I'm tired. Today wore me out." He stood up and pulled me with him so that he could engulf me in a farewell hug, "Goodnight Liza. See you tomorrow in class . . . and good luck with detention." He let go and walked towards the boy's staircase and ascended them.

"Good night . . ." I zoned for a little bit just to make sure that he was completely out of earshot, and then moaned out of frustration, "Murglalumpffarum."

"Feelin' obay bere, Elifa?"

"AHHHH!" I threw a pillow in the air which hit a third year in the head, and my uncontrolled spazzing hands smacked the creeper in the face.

"Geez," They said, grabbing their nose, "Will you stop attacking my face? It reels the ladies in, and I'd like to keep it that way." It was James, and he seemed to be talking normally once again. I guess hitting him once gave him a speech impediment, and hitting him a second time made it all better. Go figure.

"Puh-lease," Rose, who was right at his heel, laughed pointing at him in pure amusement, "You haven't had a girlfriend since your fourth year. And the only reason you got one then is because the girls were daft enough to fall for your obvious stupidity. But, unlucky for you, they're smarter now."

"Were you guys listening in on that?" I cried, not even letting James give Rose a proper comeback . . . not that he could even think of one anyways. I was absolutely appalled right now.

"Pretty much." Rose said, plopping down on the couch beside me, "You didn't actually expect me to go down to the kitchens at an ungodly hour such as this?"

"It's only ten." James said.

"Ungodly for _me_. But really, did you?" She turned back to me in all seriousness.

"Well no," I admitted, "But I didn't think you guys would go as low as to _listen in_ on something private."

"I guess you don't know our family very well."

"Touché." Because I wanted the upper hand in this failing (on my part) argument, I smacked her across the face playfully, but at the same time I was being completely serious. She gasped in outrage and pulled my hair as hard as she possibly could. In response, I gave her a wet willy.

"You guys fight too much. It's unhealthy."

"Your _face_ is unhealthy." I bit back smartly, pulling my pinky out of Rose's ear. Yeah, that's right. You best believe that I'm the master of comebacks.

"Er . . . okay." He said, scratching his head, "Anyways, I kind of sort of never got to speak with you about that extremely important thing I was going to speak with you about."

"Alright, shoot."

"ARE YOU BLOODY INSANE, WHAT THE HELL WERE YOU DOING FLIRTING WITH THAT MAN SKEEZE RIGHT IN FRONT OF MY BROTHER!"

I blinked.

"Just because I'm on a diet doesn't mean I can't look at the menu."

Rose smacked her hand to her forehead. James just stared at me with his mouth hanging open. I shrugged; they should know that this is just who I am and, until I get into a serious relationship (particularly with Al), I'm still going to be a horrible flirt. Why put my incredibly good looks to waste?

"You're one twisted little girl." James mumbled.

"I take that as a compliment."

"Let's just go to bed before I have an aneurism please?" Rose pleaded, her hand still glued to her forehead. I nodded, standing up and pulling on her wrist so that I could drag her to the staircase that leads up to our dormitory.

"See ya later, alligators." James called, waving.

"Don't say that ever again," I told him rudely. What loser says that anyways? "Nighty night!"

"Excuse me," Someone tapped me on the shoulder the next day. I turned away from my morning eggs to find that blonde girl who was with McGonagall yesterday looking at me expectantly. I gave her a once over and decided that, not only was she too young looking to be a teacher here, but too leggy . . . and _cute_, "Are you Elizabeth Goodbody?"

"Yesh."

She quirked an eyebrow at my answer.

_What_?

Don't look at me like I'm some sort of freak . . . _you're_ the freak, you young and cute looking Professor (that just never _happens_).

"Okay . . ." She began, her voice like bells. Merlin, this girl was like an oversized Barbie doll (Rose showed me what that was back in third year by stealing the three-year-old next door's dolls and then blasting them to smithereens with a flick of her wand . . . she also got a notice from the Ministry that if they ever caught wind of her doing magic outside of school again that she would be expelled. I don't know why people think she's so smart, that Rose . . . she has her stupid moments) it was actually beginning to freak me out, "Well, McGonagall is busy passing around timetables and she wanted me to talk to you."

"I'm all ears."

I don't understand that expression. My ears are very small compared to the rest of my body, thank you very much.

"Well, basically she wants you put into the seventh year Transfiguration course instead of the sixth year one. She says that you don't have to if you don't want to but that you should highly consider it. Oh and she said that, 'despite your uncanny knack at disrupting class and being unhealthily lazy, that you actually possess some talent when it comes to Transfiguration.' Her words, not mine."

"What!" Rose cried in outrage from across the table, "Eliza! You can't ditch me for an advanced class! If anything _I_ should be ditching _you_ for an advanced class!"

"Thanks, Rose. And I'm not completely stupid, okay?" I bit back with as much sassiness as I could muster up. Who does she think she is, insulting my intelligence? I turned back to Barbie, "I'll do it."

"Great." She said, not even trying to conceal her lack of enthusiasm. She began to walk away but stopped as if she forgot something, "Oh, and here's your timetable." And then she walked away _for real_ this time.

"Oh hey," I said point at the timetable, "I've got Micky first thing! What a coincidence!"

"Yo muthafrizzles," Someone exclaimed from behind me. I jumped in fright at the sound of James' voice. He sat next to me and ripped the timetable right out of my hands, "Why are you in seventh year Transfiguration?" He asked after a second of examining it.

"Because I'm smart."

Al snickered, "Good one."

I stuck my tongue out at him and threw the rest of my bagel his way, aiming for his forehead. Little did he know, however, that my insides were bubbling like carbonated sodas from just the smile he sent my way after successfully blocking the bagel with his hand.

"Hey Micky-G!" James yelled to McGonagall, waving his hands around like an idiot, "Can I get my timetable over here? And make it snappy! Thanks." McGonagall glared at him from across the room but nonetheless brought over his timetable, along with Al's and Rose's. She left, muttering something about 'ungrateful twerps', "Hey Liza! We have Transfiguration together! Yayy!"

"That's super awesome, James."

Except not really.

"Hey guys!" Another voice exclaimed. I looked and this time it was Malfoy making his way over to us. He sat down next to Al, exchanging timetables.

"Malfoy, don't you have your own table to sit at?" I wondered out loud, looking pointedly towards the Slytherin table, "I know we're cool and all, but you kind of annoy the living snot out of me."

He snorted, handing Al back his timetable and then snatching mine right from my hands. He scanned it for a moment before replying, "Don't flatter yourself, Goodbody. You're not as cool as you think you are, to tell the truth. And I know I annoy the living snot out of you; that's why I'm over here . . . And to look at your guys' timetables. See you in Divination, Goodbody."

And then he left to go sit back down at his own table.

I think that was probably the briefest confrontation I've had with Malfoy yet.

Well, I'm not complaining.

Wawawawawait a second. Back up a little, please and thank you.

"_Please_ tell me you guys are taking Divination as well." I grabbed all their schedules, searching through them frantically. But it was no use; none of them were taking it.

Bleeding hell.

"Good luck, Eliza." Al told me, looking into my eyes sincerely. It kind of gave me the impression that he knows a lot more about Malfoy than he was letting on. Probably did, now that I think about it. Malfoy _is_ one of his best friends after all.

I glanced at Malfoy as he sat back down at the Slytherin table and gave him the best sneer I could muster up. He saw it and only winked in reply.

The nerve of the fellow.

I sighed.

I have a feeling that I'm never gonna be able to catch a break this year.


	7. Bricks

**Chapter Seven**

Seventh Years are insane.

Completely and utterly.

And this is coming from _me._

Get the picture yet?

I walk into McGonagall's classroom, James right at my heels, to find at least three separate couples snogging each other's face off, a rowdy group of boys setting fire to other people's hair, a boy with an oversized spider sitting on his shoulder like it was a parrot or whatever, and a girl lying across one of the desks fast asleep.

I stopped dead in my tracks to lift my lip up in a skeptical scowl. James strolled right in as if he didn't notice the insanity. He turned around to give me a confused look, "Eliza! We have to sit next to each other! Like we're BFFL's or something."

". . . But we're not."

"Well _fine_." He scoffed, "How about BFWSNTEOIT's?"

"I'm not familiar with that acronym, sorry."

He groaned in impatience, "Best Friends While Sitting Next To Each Other In Transfiguration. _Duh_." As he spoke, he sent one of those 'dude nods' that's supposed to be the male's way of saying hello to some kid with dirty blonde hair, "That's Jarret. We were BFWSNTEOIT's last year. See?" He pulled a crumpled piece of parchment out of his bag and handed it to me. I read it quickly.

_James + Jarret = BFWSNTEOIT's Forever_

I mentally snorted.

Fags.

He snatched the paper out of my hands and stuffed it back into his bag and then promptly continued to drag me to the back of the room in the corner on the left side. He pushed my shoulders down so that I would sit in the seat and then planted his own butt casually in the chair next to mine.

What a pushy child.

And so we sat there, awkwardly staring at the other's shoes, until McGonagall finally decided to make her appearance. Barbie came in right after her, discreetly taking a seat at the back of the class. I think I may have just been the only one to see her, actually.

"Settle down, settle down," McGonagall commanded as she strolled to the front of the class, flicking her wand to wake up the sleeping girl and to put out the numerous heads on fire. She rolled her eyes at us and motioned for Barbie to come to the front of the room, "Before we start class today, I've got an announcement."

James looked up and his face went from his normal 'I'm a moron' look to the most serene expression I think I've seen on _anyone_. I thought maybe that it was just my imagination but, after rubbing my eyes thoroughly and looking at him again, the look was still there.

I followed his line of vision and found that he was looking at Barbie.

Oh, Merlin.

"James," I mumbled, "What's going on in that head of yours?"

He ignored me, his eyes still fixated on the young woman who was probably—at the very _least_—four years older than him.

"This is Franchesca Cook." McGonagall told us, motioning to the blonde, "But you might as well call her Professor Cook. She's not really a Professor yet, but she's here to learn to become one firsthand. Be respectful of her. After all, she'll occasionally take over class for me every now and then."

I elbowed James, "Did you hear that, James?" He didn't even blink. I elbowed him harder, "_Professor_ Cook. You can stop ogling her now."

He didn't.

Giving up, I sighed in frustration and slunk back into my seat so that I could prepare myself for class. Believe it or not, I'm actually the type of girl who likes to pay attention during lectures—taking notes, on the other hand, is a whole other matter.

Me and notes don't really mesh.

The notes started it though . . . they hurt my blasted wrist after writing so much.

Stupid notes.

Barbie sat back down in the seat she had first taken upon entering class and James' eyes followed her like they were permanently glued on her form. I resisted the urge to smack my hand to my forehead . . . and to his face for that matter.

"Eliza . . ." He said so quietly that I'm not even sure if I heard him, "I think I'm in love."

That did it. Up came my hand.

"James," I said, closing my eyes and fisting the hand that hit my forehead into my bangs, "You haven't even _talked _to her before _and_—not only that—but she's a teacher."

"A _student_ teacher." He pointed out in a soft hum.

"Doesn't matter." I insisted, glaring at him in complete frustration.

"But I'm in _love_."

"No you're not!"

"Yes I _am_."

"_No _you're not!"

"_Yes_ I am!"

"You're stupid."

"_Yes_ I a—Hey!"

I waved off his feeble protests and darkened my glare a bit, "Don't even think about it James. You could get in tons of trouble; you could get _her_ in tons of trouble too. If you're really in 'love'—" I did those nifty air quotations, "—with her than you wouldn't want that, right?"

His response surprised me.

He sighed sadly, looking over at Barbie with a melancholy smile, "Right." He forced himself to turn away from the beautiful girl sitting at the back of the room and began to listen to the Professor refreshing us on how to turn goblets into birds.

I felt a realization hit me like a ton of bricks.

Maybe in some weird, psyched-out way, James really did care for this girl he doesn't even know, this girl he saw for the first time three minutes ago.

If that was the case, then I foresee a lot of drama in my future.

Oh, joyous merriment.

An hour and a half later, class ended and James and I began packing out stuff away. I tugged on his arm 'cause I could tell that he was a little hesitant to leave. I could tell the whole time during that lecture that James was having internal battle with himself.

Mostly 'cause he would talk to himself.

I would be worried, but this is just so . . . _James Potter_, ya know what I mean?

As we passed by Barbie she smiled lightly at us and James promptly stopped in his tracks, gaping at the student teacher. He pushed up his glasses slightly but otherwise stood stock still. Okay now _this_ is beginning to worry me.

Barbie stared at him unsurely, "Can I help you?"

James just gawked.

"Sorry about him," I told her, giving her the fakest smile ever, "He just . . . well, I don't really know. But bye." And with that, I dragged him out of the class room, down the hall a little ways and made him look me in the eyes. I glared at him, "James, what are you doing?"

"James is doing something?" A familiar voice asked, making my heart flutter.

"Nothing." I quipped, turning to Al with an actual genuine smile, "What're you doing down here? I though you didn't have Transfiguration until tomorrow."

"I don't," He replied, coming to a stop to stand in between me and James, "But I thought that I'd talk to McGonagall about my schedule before it's too late." He noticed James' dazed look, "Are you sure something's not up?"

"I'm in love, Albus!" He exclaimed, opening up his arms wide and engulfing his brother in a hug. Al's face scrunched up adorably and he did not return the hug. His eyes came to mine and he looked worried for his brother.

"Erm . . ." He began, "With who?"

"Professor Cook!"

My hand hit my face again. This boy is going to give me a concussion one of these days.

Al's eyebrows rose behind his messy black bangs, "_Professor _Cook?" James nodded vigorously, and Al sent me a look before turning back to his brother with a worried expression, "James—no offense or anything—but that is possibly the stupidest thing you've ever said in your seventeen years of living."

That is saying a lot, Al.

"Stupid but _true_."

The bell rang, signaling that we had less than a minute to get to class. I jumped, "Crap. I've got to get to class." I pulled my schedule out and groaned. Divination. On second thought, why don't I just skip class altogether? Begrudgingly, I bid them farewell.

"See you soon, Eliza." Al said, winking and heading down the hall that led to Micky's class. My heart skipped a bit at the action, making me wonder if he knew something was about to happen.

"Bye, Eliza!" James called, heading the opposite direction as me, "See you in detention tonight!"

And then he was gone.

I knew I was going to be late to Divination no matter what I did so I didn't even bother picking up my pace. Besides, maybe if I get there last after everyone has taken their seats I can avoid sitting next to Malfoy. He wouldn't dare save me a seat. It would only indicate that he was interested in me (which he is). But he doesn't really want people to know that.

Neither do I for that matter.

I finally made it to that freaky trap-door thing to find that the ladder had already been pulled up. Well, _great_. Now what?

With a sudden spark of imagination, I yanked a textbook out of my bag and chucked it at the trap-door, hoping that Trelawney would hear the commotion it causes and let poor old me into her classroom. It hit the trap-door perfectly and then fell to the ground with a deafening _boom_ that you only hear when a book that thick drops from that high.

"Goodbody?" An all too familiar voice questioned, "What the hell are you doing?"

I turned around to see Malfoy smirking at me. _Awesome_.

"Trying to get Trelawney to come let down the latter?"

"Are you not a witch?" He mocked, taking out his wand and flicking it at the trap-door. It opened immediately and the ladder fell down for us to climb. I picked up my textbook, dusted off the dirt and made sure to grumble a lot.

Stupid Malfoy.

I let him climb up the ladder first so he wouldn't look up my skirt or anything. When I reached the perfumed room filled with tea cups and crystal balls, I looked around frantically to see if it were possible for me and Malfoy to sit very very far away.

Of course, it wasn't.

"Nice of you to join us." Trelawney told us almost sarcastically, her enlarged eyes scrutinizing us critically.

I laughed feebly, "Right." I then proceeded to close the trap-door.

"Wait!" Someone called from the floor below. I jumped, not expecting for someone else to be late to class. I peeked my head through the hole slightly to see Albus smiling up at me. With a wave and another wink, he climbed the ladder and joined the rest of in the Divination classroom. I gaped at him, spluttering oh-so attractively.

"Don't look so excited to see me, Eliza," He said playfully, taking my shoulder in his hand and steering me to the only vacant table. Malfoy followed us and took a seat next to Al, a little put out. Probably 'cause Al ruined what was sure to be the only 'alone time' I'd let Malfoy get with me this year.

I think I just fell in love with Al a little more. Weird. I didn't really think it was possible.

"I thought you were supposed to have a free period right now," I wondered out loud.

"And leave you all alone with my psychotic best friend?" He replied, "Yeah _right_."

I felt my face soften of its own accord, "Thank you."

He sent me a goofy smile, "Don't get used to it." He grabbed my hand and lightly squeezed it, telling me he was only kidding. I smiled, returning the gesture before he could take back his hand and then turned to the front of the classroom to pay attention to Trelawney only to find her passing out tea cups.

Last time she did this, I was supposed to die by falling into an incinerator.

Should be a fun class period.

I drained my tea and then handed the cup to Malfoy, who handed his to Al who handed his to me. I opened up my book and turned to the little chart that showed what different shapes in the tea leaves meant.

"Well this right here means love," Malfoy said out loud, pointing to things in my cup that we couldn't see, "And this means close or 'friendly'. Are you, by chance, in love with a really close friend or something, Goodbody?" He raised his eyebrows playfully and looked pointedly at Albus when he wasn't paying attention.

Did Malfoy just tease me in a friendly manner?

Fine. Two can play at that game. I snatched Malfoy's cup out of Al's grip and looked frantically for shapes and signs, "You've also got love in here, but there's a little more. This one means 'big' and this one means 'head' so I guess you're pretty much in love with yourself or something."

Maybe that was a little pass playful.

Oh, well.

He glared at me, "Well this one means 'desperate'."

"This one means 'Needy'." I growled.

"'_Overbearing'."_

"'_Childish'."_

"Mine says that I'm a sexy animal? And yes, this book actually has a symbol for 'sexy'." Al threw in with a smile, trying to ease the tension.

And it worked. The three of us burst out into giggles, clutching the sides of the table for support. I smiled at the two blokes before realizing something. I think I just had fun with Malfoy. Well, I _guess_ he is a little more bearable when he isn't being creepy. But still.

This shouldn't be happening.


	8. Flicker

**Chapter Eight**

I sat in my dormitory, just thinking. You probably wouldn't expect me to be the type of bird who finds the smell of mahogany and the sunlight that shines through open windows relaxing but I am. It's just easy to think around this stuff. Not to mention Paul, A.K.A. the-best-listener-in-the-entire-world, whose tank just so happened to be nestled in my criss-crossed legs as I stroked the glass affectionately.

. . . What?

It's not like I can actually stroke _him_, okay?

Believe me, I tried.

That's how Paul the second died, actually. I scared the poor thing to death. It nearly broke my twelve-year-old heart.

I sighed, "Paul, James is going psycho over some girl he doesn't know. And that's not even the worst part. She's a _teacher_!"

He let out a few bubbles.

"_I know! _And I guess she's not a _teacher_ teacher but he could still get into a lot of trouble pursuing her! Not like he'll ever _achieve_ anything with her. But what if he _does?_ What would happen then? James would probably be sent home and Professor Cook would be fired and he's probably going to find some way to ensnare me into this big mess and—"

"_OH MY FREAKING GAWD!"_

I jumped, some of the water falling out of the side of Paul's tank and onto my bed. I heard footsteps that sounded more like a two-legged-elephant bombarding up the stairs accompanied by an earsplitting screech that was either supposed to be joyful or completely disgusted. Frankly, I couldn't tell the difference. But only one person could cause such a commotion.

"Oh my gawd, oh my gawd, oh my _GAWD!"_

I frantically placed Paul's tank safely onto my nightstand and, like the courageous Gryffindor I am, I hid my beautiful face underneath my covers so that it would be protected from whatever psychotic wrath Rose unleashes once she makes it up the stairs, peeking an eye out.

As if someone had rigged a vast pile of explosives to detonate every time Rose Weasley entered the vicinity behind the mahogany door, it flew open, hitting the wall with a resonating thud and then flying closed of its own accord. Rose flew in, arms flailing like the legs of a flamingo. I pulled the covers back an inch or two more and found myself staring up into a wicked grin that seemed to overtake her face . . . and, on occasion, my nightmares.

"Eliza!" She jumped onto my bed, causing the blanket to fly every which way and leaving me very horribly protected, "Oh my gawd! Guess what! Guess _what!_" She hit my arms repeatedly in excitement, as if I wasn't answering fast enough (even though she didn't give me time to answer in the first place, the stupid ho).

"What?" I asked dryly.

She paused for a moment, her lips crinkling in the way they only do when she's trying to look serious but can't seem to hide her amusement. The way they only do when she's pausing for dramatic effect. I resisted the sudden urge to roll my eyes and slap her across the face for just being so . . . _Rose._

"Scorpius asked me out!" She squealed, throwing her hands out in enthusiasm and giggling like a five-year-old, "He actually asked me out! To Hogsmeade! I'm going to go on a date with him. _Finally_! Oh, Eliza! Aren't you just bursting with joy for me?"

She engulfed me into her arms like I was her favorite unicorn-covered pillow, apparently not noticing how I immediately stiffened at the news. I patted her back half-heartedly, staring up at the curtains surrounding my bed blankly.

"Y-yeah." I conceded, almost numbly, "I think I might explode with the amount of joy I have right now, actually."

I winced as she continued to squeal into my ear, more likely than not speeding up my hearing loss and giving me gray hair. I'm going to be an old lady by the time I'm twenty-six and it's all because Rose Weasley is my best friend.

"But that's not even the best part!" She exclaimed, pulling away from me, springing onto her feet and prancing around the dormitory like she had just come straight out of auditions for _The Nutcracker_, "Well, yeah it is—but that's not the point! The point is, is that there's even _more _exciting news!" She paused again for dramatic effect (it's not working, Rose, you should probably just give up), "We're going to double! Scorpius and me, and you and Albus!"

My jaw dropped and I very nearly fell off of my bed.

"_What_?"

She stopped prancing for a moment to send me a look of confusion. Of course, she'd obviously expect me to be just dandy with this news because it's the love of my life that we're talking about here. But, Merlin's-heart-infested-boxers, this is all too much too soon!

"What's wrong, Liza?" She asked, crawling back into the bed so that she could give me a sisterly hug, "I thought you'd jump for joy," Oh, you mean like you were just doing? Hate to break it to you, Rosie, but you sort of looked like an idiot, "I thought it was a brilliant idea when Scorpius suggested it, I didn't think you'd—"

"This was _Malfoy's_ idea!" I cut across, grabbing her arm in an almost rough manner.

She recoiled, glowering, "Yeah. Geez, Eliza. What's your problem?"

I unintentionally sneered, "I don't have a problem."

This was a _huge_ problem.

_Something_ must be brewing in that big head of Malfoy's. Maybe this is another scheme to get me to fall for him. In which case, I refuse to participate because it would end up breaking little Rose's heart. But on the other hand I'll be on a date . . .

With Al.

Gah! How am I supposed to choose between my two best friends!

"Liza," A soft voice broke through the silence that had engulfed me in the common room. I jumped slightly in surprise and turned to see Albus staring at me with his lips quirked in amusement, "Aren't you supposed to be in detention right now?"

I relaxed immediately, waving off the news like it was the winter's snowfall on my shoulders, "Meh. I'll get there when I get there."

He shrugged at my response and plopped himself down on the loveseat next to me. He spread his arms across the back of the piece of furniture like he always does as I reveled in the thought that just leaning back slightly would bring contact between the warm skin of his arm and my shoulder blades. I glanced at him and saw his green eyes flickering like the fire he was staring into.

"What are we going to do about Scorpius and Rose?" He asked me lightly.

"Oh," I said, "So you think that's bad news too, huh?" I shrugged, "I guess it doesn't matter what he does as long as he doesn't break her heart."

"I'll murder him if he does," Albus said seriously.

"I'll help." I joked, smiling weakly.

"Yay." He waved his hands in the air half-heartedly. Simultaneously, we heaved out the breaths that we hadn't even realized we were holding in in an over-exaggerated sigh. I glanced at Al, who glanced at me as he stood up and held out his hand so that he could help me to my feet as well.

"Here," He said, smiling that dazzling smile of his, "I'll walk you to detention."

"Okay," I agreed, accepting his hand as he pulled me to my feet. He let go almost immediately and my hand felt suddenly cold.

I wish I had the guts to reach out and take his hand again, to intertwine our fingers, just to see what he'd say and how he'd react. The outcome could either turn out extremely happy or extremely horrifying. It's the possibility of the horrifying outcome that makes me so gutless.

Phooey.

What do guts have to do with anything anyways?

And why in the hell are guts associated with fear? As a society are we focused on having more guts than everyone else? Because, in my opinion, the only upside of having more guts than anyone else is looking especially extravagant when squashed.

But let's get real. How many people are _actually_ squashed like a bug?

"Er . . ." Al's voice cut through my mental tirade, "Are you okay, Eliza? Your face is all . . . glazed over."

"Hmm?" I hummed, "Oh, sorry. I was just thinking about guts."

His eyebrows shot up behind his mop of messy black hair, "That's . . . not really normal."

"Since when have I been normal?" I sent him a cheeky grin.

"Touché."

We clamored through the portrait hole and continued our walk in comfortable silence. I could tell that his thoughts were far away and that he was struggling to journey back to reality, so I waited. Not that I'm complaining; I'm completely content with ogling him while he's completely oblivious of it. If his eyes ever moved to mine, I simply continued my staring as not to rouse suspicion.

"So . . ." He began as we descended a flight of stairs, waiting patiently as they began to shift to a new destination, "Are you excited for our . . . date?"

My heart sped up immediately.

He just called it a _date_.

Okay, Eliza. Try not to let it show that you're having a spaz attack on the inside. Just act normal . . . which would be abnormal for you. So just . . . act abnormal. Yeahh.

"Llamas!"

He stopped short and shot me an extremely worried look, "Llamas?"

"Er—sorry." I told him sheepishly, intertwining my hands together behind my back and rocking back and forth on my heels adorably, "I didn't really mean to say that. It just kind of burst out of my mouth on its own accord." I laughed meebily.

He rolled his eyes, "Then let's try this again; Are you looking forward to our date?"

HELLZ YEAH.

"Perhaps a little bit."

"Really?" He asked quickly, and I shot him a confused look. I passed off what I thought was his excitement as my imagination with a shrug and walked on. I saw him shake his head roughly, as if he were trying to shake something off—like his thoughts weren't cooperating with what he wanted or what he knew.

"Yeah." I said, smiling at him through the dimly lit corridor that would lead us to McGonagall's classroom, "Do you know what Malfoy's got planned for us in Hogsmeade?"

Al rolled his eyes at some thought that came to mind and then he answered, "Yeah; we're gonna go to this fancy-shmancy restaurant. The jerk probably doesn't even realize that this will drain all that I've got saved up. After all, his parents give him money like it's candy. My parents make me work for mine."

"Do you think it would help if I paid for my share of the bill?" I asked as we neared the Transfiguration room. I tried to act cool about it when the truth was that just the thought of him paying for my food made it seem more real to me. It was a _date_. And that, in-turn, made me feel like I swallowed a dozen butterflies all at once and now they were flapping their wings like they naturally do inside my stomach.

Al shook his head, "Yeah." He admitted, "But I won't allow it. It _is_ a date, after all."

And with that he pulled me in for a hug, waved goodbye, sent me a playful wink and walked back the opposite direction, allowing me to face my doom that stood just beyond this wooden door at the end of this corridor.

I sighed, shaking my head and letting a smile spread itself across my lips.

"You're late, Goodbody."

When I entered the classroom I was surprised to see Professor Cook behind Micky's desk instead of Micky herself. At first I was relieved—McGonagall likes to give out hard detentions and this n00b is probably too naïve to know how these things work—and then I was almost hysterical.

_James_ was going to be here too!

Glancing to my right I could see James _already_ sitting there looking like he was on the verge of exploding from all of his excitement. His legs couldn't seem to stop moving, making him look like he really need to go to the bathroom—come to think of it, maybe he did—and he seemed to be sweating. Despite all of this, he was grinning like an idiot.

Curse you, you cute, long-legged student teacher and your ability to woo extremely stupid blokes like James Potter by just stepping into the vicinity.

I moved to sit next to him but her smooth voice stopped me.

"Why don't you sit next to Elizabeth, Elizabeth?" She asked, glancing to the left of the classroom. I followed where she was looking and saw the man-woman sitting in one of the desks. She looked thoroughly furious. Her hands were laying across the desk and were clenched so tightly that they were turning pure white, and she was glaring at me with a passion I've never seen before. And she's got a lovely new addition to her wardrobe—a nice little eye patch . . . which was partly my doing.

Umm . . .

I glanced frantically between her, James and Barbie and quickly grew hysterical.

"But—!"

"This is _detention_ after all." She cut through, raising a perfectly shaped eyebrow.

With a huff and a snooty toss of my long black tresses, I sat down next the man-woman-pirate-person who continued in her (his) pursuit to glare at me. I scooted my chair as far away as possible from her and proceeded to place my elbows on the table and lean my face into my fists.

Detention was boring.

We just sat there—which, I think, is worse than her making us do something. I can't sit for too long. It makes me anxious!

"Soo . . ." I said after a couple of minutes, "Are we—?"

"No talking."

_Great_.

I tapped my fingers against the wooden table, staring around the room in utter boredom. I glanced at James who was stilling smiling goofily at Barbie. I glanced back at the girl who had just taken a look up from her writing and whatnot, catching James' eye. Her blonde eyebrow rose so that they were hidden behind her fringe.

"Why so chipper, Potter?" She asked him, her voice ringing like bells.

He shrugged, the grin never leaving his face, "Who says I'm chipper?"

Her face remained bland and she answered sarcastically, "The smile on your face that makes you look a little gay, if I do say so myself."

I laughed at that.

What?

It was _funny_. And true . . .

And completely inappropriate for a student teacher to say!

Happy?

James seemed unfazed, "This _smile_ also happens to reel in the ladies."

I rolled my eyes. If he thinks he's being smooth, then he's got another thing com—did she just _giggle_! Rubbing my eyes frantically in hopes that I was just imagining things, I glanced at Professor Cook again and, lo and behold, she really _was_ giggling. At _James_,the epitome of all things stupid and reckless.

WHAT THE HELL?

The rest of detention seemed to move on like this. Barbie would say something insulting, James would snap back (surprisingly) with a witty comment each time, and the result would be a giggling student teacher, hiding her perfect smile behind her petite, manicured hands.

It was actually extremely frightening.

It was almost like she was _letting_ him flirt with her . . . and enjoying it.

But she must be around the age of, what? Nineteen? I mean, James—despite his stupidity—is an attractive bloke. And he's only two years younger than her and—WHY AM I RATIONLIZING THIS? This is wrong. _Wrong_.

I'm going insane here.

James and I hovered near the Transfiguration classroom for a couple minutes so that the man-woman-pirate-person could go on ahead of us. How awkward would it be to walk next to her all the way back to Gryffindor tower? Anywho.

Once she rounded the corner, we started walking.

James sighed, "That was probably the best detention I've ever gone through in my entire life. I think I'm gonna tick Mickey off more often."

I rolled my eyes, "Seriously, James? What did I tell you about Barbie?"

"Barbie?"

"I mean . . . Professor Cook."

He shrugged, "I don't know. All I know is that she's the most gorgeous woman I have ever seen, and that she has the most adorable laugh that makes my heart go crazy. And I really think that she brings out the best in me, Liza."

"I did notice that you were wittier than usual," I grumbled loud enough for him to hear.

"Exactly!" He sighed again, "I'm going to make her mine, Eliza."

"But she's _older_ than you!" I cried indignantly, "Isn't that supposed to freak blokes out?"

He shook his head, the smile returning, "It doesn't freak _me_ out. That just means that she's more of a woman than any of the other girls I've met here at Hogwarts. No offense, Eliza."

I resisted the urge to smack myself in the face. _Again_.

"You're an idiot, did you know that?"

"But an idiot in _love_."

"Nope, not even that."

He ignored me, and continued on to Gryffindor tower with a skip in his step. I trailed behind sluggishly, trying to find the bright side of this. Well . . . if James gets the girl then I could probably convince him to convince her to give me good grades even when I don't deserve it.

Heh heh.

Who am I kidding? That's never going to happen.

I'm completely screwed right now.

Sometimes I really hate James.


	9. Monster

**Chapter Nine**

Fidgety is probably the most accurate word to describe me at the moment. So fidgety, in fact, that my brain is in a right whirl. I'm having a hard time remembering the difference between euphemisms and dysphemisms—not the best way to get on a teacher's good side, let me tell you. I won't go into detail on some of the words I've been using today as I don't want to scar your more than likely innocent mind.

You know what they say, after all; when you eat dog poop, you throw up but when your _mind_ eats dog poop it won't because minds are incapable of throwing up . . .

Or something.

Yeah, I actually don't know where I was going with that. Why would you even eat _dog poop_ in the first place?

But I digress.

There are two main reasons why I'm so fidgety right now. One; the fact that I am going on a date with my best friend and two-year-long crush. And two; the fact that Malfoy is taking Rose (presumably for some ulterior motive)on said date and has been keeping his perverted mouth shut all day. Also, I've been holding in my pee for a while now and I _really_ got to go.

But that is completely beside the point.

"You don't find this fishy at all?" I asked James in Transfiguration. Thankfully, Professor Cook wasn't present so I was free to speak to James and not feel like I was talking to a brainless dummy that's got it bad for the prissy Barbie doll.

James' head popped up at my remark, "Why, Eliza! I do believe that you just used the term 'fishy' in a negative manner!"

My eyes popped, "Crap, you're right! Paul, please forgive me! Even though I'll probably never tell you about this . . . I-I'm too ashamed."

James rolled his eyes at my stupidity—which was quite the reversal of roles, if you ask me—and spoke quietly, "But anyways, I see what you're saying. Anyone with eyes can see that Malfoy's got it bad for you—well, except Rose—so I don't really know what he's trying to achieve by dating your best friend. Maybe he's moved on."

I eyed him momentarily as he leaned back, his parchment over his book so that he could write in his new comfortable position. "You're acting extremely cavalier about all of this, James. Does it not mean anything to you that she's your _cousin_?" I said, raising an eyebrow.

He shrugged, "The only people I care about scaring the boys away from are you and Lily."

How touched I was was unfortunately drowned out by how frustrated I was with his indifference, "Even when you _know_ she's going to get hurt?"

"Actually," He cut in, smirking, "We _don't_ know that."

"Are you kidding me!" I whispered incredulously, "He was wiggling his eyebrows at me this morning!"

"I could have sworn he was aiming that at Rose . . ."

"No! It was definitely aimed towards _me_."

"You know, I get this feeling that you're only acting like this because a guy is more interested in Rose than he is with you . . . even if it is Malfoy."

"That's ridiculous."

"Is it?"

"Yes!" I insisted, inflamed that he would even suggest such a stupid idea. It almost makes me think that James believes me to be an attention whore. Like I couldn't go two seconds without being the center of attention.

I sighed, crossing my arms and burying my face into them. Once I resurfaced I gave James the puppy dog eyes, "Why is it so irrational to be on my side right now? My accusations are perfectly reasonable." I quivered my lip a little to up the cuteness factor.

"Yes, they are," He agreed.

How is he so freaking calm right now!

"Then what the heck, James?" I asked haughtily, throwing my cute charade to hell.

"I think we should just see where it takes them." He shrugged, whipping his head so that his hair wasn't in his eyes anymore. It reminded me of that muggle star Rose showed me . . . Justin Beaver? . . . Yeah, that guy.

"That's what I thought would be the best approach too," I informed him, rolling my eyes, "_Yesterday_. Now that I've had time to think this all through, realization hit me that it's an incredibly stupid idea. Rose could get her heart broken!"

"And what if she doesn't?"

I blinked, unsure of what to say. I thought I could debate anything he threw at me, but I hadn't even stopped to think about _this_.

"Mister Potter, Miss Goodbody!" McGonagall scorned from the front of the room, "Pay attention, you baboons!"

Once McGonagall went back to teaching, James leaned towards me and said in a lowered voice, "For all we know, good could come out of this. Rose has been in love with that boy since she's laid eyes on him. This is her _chance_, Eliza. Just like it's _your_ chance for my brother. You wouldn't take that away from her, would you?"

I didn't have an answer for that either.

It was a beautiful day out today, and I'd usually find myself down by the lake with Rose or Al. But instead, here I sat in the common room, staring blankly into the fire. Why is it even lit right now? It's like four in the afternoon. Not that I'm complaining—it at least gives me _something_ to stare at.

The dying embers are sort of how I feel right now. Yes, I shifted from fidgety to feeling like a wheezing, fragile, burnt piece of wood. James has really got me thinking—I know, what a shocker—and I'm starting to think . . . well, I really don't know what I'm starting to think. Which scares me. Sure, I act on impulse and do stupid stuff but at least I _know_ what it is I want. Right now, I'm not so sure.

Do I really crave attention more than my best friend's happiness? Yes. Is it so hypocritical to want my happy ending and tell Rose she can't because her happy ending involves a big fat jerk? Yes. Am I a horrible friend? Sometimes, yes. Should I tell Rose about Malfoy when it will confirm all of the above? _Yes_. Do I want to? No freaking way.

"Hey," I felt the couch sink next to me and a warm hand on my shoulder. Who I saw took me by complete surprise.

"Hey, Hugo?" The way I said it made it sound like a question.

"I'm surprised to see you here," He said, ignoring my questioning looks and removing his hand from my shoulder, "Usually you're outside with my sister and Al being a complete spaz."

"And _you're_ usually out there too, rolling your eyes at my antics but secretly loving it."

He laughed but it died down quickly when he noticed that my own laugh was halfhearted. The hand he removed soon returned, this time around my waist as he pulled me close for a hug. It was unexpected, especially from Hugo, but I accepted it nonetheless, weaving my arms around his own waist. He put his other hand on my head and gently pushed it into the crook of his neck.

"Are you okay, Eliza?" He asked into my hair.

I nodded into his shirt.

"I think you might be lying to me." He told me, "You look like Paul just died . . . but without the tears."

I rolled my eyes, "I'm okay. Really."

He pulled back a little and shook his head at me, "You're like a sister to me, Eliza. I think I'd know when something is wrong." That took me a little off guard. I guess what Al told me in the summer was right after all. His family really _did_ think me to be a part of it.

I sighed, diving my head back into his embrace, "Hugo? If Rose and I got into a fight . . . you wouldn't take sides would you?"

He pulled back again, this time so that he was holding my shoulders arms-length away. His eyes squinted, like he was trying to think of what I could possibly mean by that, "Why would you ask that Eliza?"

"Because there's something I have to tell her," I said slowly, ". . . It's not news that she's going to take well, and I'm afraid that a lot of your family will hate me for it."

"Oh," There was silence for a little before he continued, "Well I can't testify for the rest of my family, but I promise that I won't hate you."

"Pinky promise?" I asked, holding out said extremity.

He hooked his pinky with mine and I smiled a true genuine smile, ruffling his hair and laughing out loud. The Weasley family is a lucky family. And I'm lucky just knowing them, even luckier to be considered a part of it by some. As long as there are those who don't, like Dom, then I'll never feel quite like I belong in it, but _this_ is enough for now.

"Aren't you just so flipping excited, Eliza?" Rose inquired for the thousandth time, shaking my shoulder violently as we strolled on down to the Great Hall for breakfast. It was finally Saturday. Hogsmeade day. _The_ day. And I've been trying to not be bitter, "Scorpius has been telling me that he couldn't wait for today. He also has been telling me that Al couldn't wait either!"

"_Has _he?" I commented rather sardonically.

It's not really working, this whole 'bitter-free' attempt.

We made it to our table, and I started piling food on my plate like a zombie. I was in my own little world, for the most part. I had too much on my mind. Today we had our date with Al and Malfoy and I still haven't told Rose about Malfoy's apparently old perverted ways. I'm scared out of my wits on this one. Rose and I act like we can't stand each other sometimes but I don't want her to _really_ hate my guts. Rose is not only my best friend, but also my common sense. I'd be lost without her. But I know that I have to do this. I owe it to her to be a good friend and tell her the truth.

"Listen Rose," I started, still unsure of what I was going to say or even how I was going to say it. It was like my lips had acted on their own and started making my thoughts into words without my brain's consent, "I've got to talk to you about something—"

"What do you think you ladies are doing?" Came Malfoy's annoying voice, snapping me out of my dazed state and interrupting my near confession. Behind him walked Al, rolling his eyes at his friend. Malfoy had dressed up, just like Rose had. I noted that Al decided to keep it casual, dressing in jeans and a simple blue t-shirt. I smiled. We think the same.

"We were . . . about to eat, actually." I stated.

"Not anymore you're not!" He exclaimed, taking Rose's elbow in his hand and pulling her away from the table, "_We_ are having an all day date. Breakfast included. In Hogsmeade . . . so let's hurry before things start getting busy down there."

He walked off with Rose, leaving Al and I alone. We both sighed.

"Those blueberry pancakes look _really_ good . . ."

"Malfoy is going to drain me of all my money . . ."

I hid it pretty good, but in the back of my mind I was having a mental breakdown . . . My chance to come clean to Rose just walked off with a git in tow. I gulped. Now she was going to hate me even more.

For breakfast we went to a small pub that was, for the most part, empty. I wasn't sure if the emptiness was due to the time of the day or how expensive the food cost. Either way, I heard Al curse next to me when he opened up the menu.

I leaned towards him, "I can still pay, you know."

Al jumped, turning his head towards me and raising his eyebrows in accusation, "Why would you ever need to do that? Calm down, Liza. It's not _that_ expensive.'

I laughed, having never seen him this way towards me. I knew the boy was stingy, but not _this_ stingy, "Fiiine. I'll just get the steak then."

He cursed again, "For _breakfast_? Are you sure you don't want scrambled eggs? Or the even cheaper, _pancakes_?"

I continued laughing and elbowed him in the side playfully. People who are easy to mess with, like Al, are extremely fun to—you know—mess with. He still looked a little worried, so I'm not sure if he caught the fact that I'm teasing. I figured I'd keep this up—for suspense, of course, not because it's funny.

A waitress came to our table, a pad of paper and a quill floating behind her. She smiled politely, "Can I get you drinks?"

Rose and Scorpius asked for butterbeer and then she turned to Al and me.

"We'll both have water," He said, smiling. I elbowed him, this time not in a friendly manner. He raised his eyebrows incredulously at me, "What?" He asked, "It's the only things that's free on this stinking menu!"

"Whatever," I replied, rolling my eyes.

The waitress left with a strange look on her face. I bet she was contemplating whether or not we were sane. As she left I glanced from Scorpius to Rose, just now noticing how they seemed to be in their own little world. I guess I was too caught up in teasing Al that I forgot about them . . . it's almost as if Al and I were _our_ own little world.

The thought gave me butterflies.

The fact that Malfoy was in his own little world with _my_ best friend stirred a monster inside me that devoured those butterflies and started tearing away at the lining of my stomach.

I leaned close to Al so I could whisper in his ear, almost rigidly, "D'you reckon he's planning something?"

Al shook his head, the action causing his jaw to lightly collide with my nose and the butterflies returned temporarily to fight way the monster. I blushed and backed a few inches away from him, "It's really hard to tell. I think he's being genuine . . ." He spoke smoothly, as if he hadn't noticed the brief—_almost_ intimate—contact we shared.

"Short time for him to change his mind." I was mildly surprised that I could speak without stuttering like an idiot.

"That's why it's hard to tell, dear Eliza."

I slouched back in my seat, glancing from Rose to Scorpius and urgently wishing for him to be sincere. I'd still have to tell her everything and she'd hate me for the rest of eternity, but at least what she would have with this boy would be true. And then maybe she could pick up the pieces of the heart he threw to the ground and she could be happy.

But there was a part of me that was nagging about this. If Malfoy weren't anything but a big fraud, then Rose would probably be more understandable. It'd be easier for her to move on. She'd forgive me and Malfoy would be out of our hair. But she wouldn't be able to piece her heart back together.

It was that part of me that denied everything James had said yesterday.

How ironic.

After breakfast, Malfoy concluded that it was time to go shopping and Albus concluded that Malfoy could go to hell. I reassured him that he wouldn't have to buy me anything, but he remained unconvinced. I rolled my eyes and told him that we could even wait outside the shops while Rose and Scorpius went in—that way I wouldn't be tempted to get anything.

So we sat down on a bench while Rose dragged Malfoy into a book shop.

"Are you having fun?" Al asked me, knocking his knee into mine jokingly.

"Tons," I remarked, staring off into the distance.

Al shifted so that he was turned towards me and when I turned my head to see what was up I was surprised by the intense look in his eyes. So quietly that I'm not entirely sure if I heard him, he questioned, "Are you . . . uncomfortable, Eliza?"

"What do you mean?" I asked, sincerely unsure of what he was talking about.

"You seem so distant . . ." He trailed off, "Is this awkward for you?"

"Is _what_ awkward for me?"

"Being here, on a date . . . with me," He added the last part almost coyly.

"Of course not!" I cried, as what he was saying finally registered in my head, "This is—" _This is what I've been dreaming about since I was fourteen_, "—really, really fun."

"You don't really seem like you're having a lot of fun."

I sighed, leaning into his side and putting my head on his shoulder like I always do when I need comfort. In turn, he wrapped an arm around my shoulders as if on instinct, "I just have a lot on my mind," I told him, "My brain's never been so conflicted in my entire life. You've seen them, Rose and Scorpius! She's just so _happy_."

"Then what's the problem?" He gave my shoulder a light squeeze as if that would prod the answer out of me faster.

"That's exactly the problem, Al." I said, not wanting to look up at him and keeping my sight towards my shoes, "She's happy! And you know all about him; he forcibly kissed me in third year, for crying out loud! I just—"

"Wait," Al cut through, immediately stiffening, "He _what_?"

"Oh," I offered lamely as I watched his knuckles turn white, "I . . . never told you about that?"

"I'm going to kill him." He stated with conviction, he started to stand up, but I tried with all my might—and succeeded—to make him sit down beside me again, "Let go, Eliza! I'm going to bloody murder that git!"

"No," I told him, smacking his arm as hard as I could, "You're not. That was three years ago, Al. Besides, that's not important right now." His body wouldn't soften, so I continued, "Well . . . actually it is—but not in the way you think!" I added hurriedly as he began to stand up again, "It's just . . . I have to tell her about him. And when I do . . . she won't be happy anymore."

Finally, his body softened and his arm returned to around my body, "Don't worry, Eliza. It'll all work out in the end. I understand why you're worried but . . . you've got me to help you through. And I don't want you to ever forget that."

"You won't hate me for ruining everything for Rose?" I asked, a fierce stinging suddenly overbearing my eyes like I was on the verge of tears.

"You haven't done a thing, Liza," He told me, "And I know that. So why would I hate you?"

"I don't know . . ." I muttered, "I just thought you would."

"You don't have to worry about that."

Silence fell over us as he comforted me. And, you know, he was doing a pretty good job at him. The longer I was in his arms, the more my worries melted away and the calmer I felt. My mind finally felt at peace.

"Eliza?"

"Hmm?"

"Did he really kiss you?"

I sighed, "Yeah."

Something about that made him troubled. More troubled than it usually would, I mean. I was about to ask him what was wrong, but Rose and Malfoy emerged from the store with shopping bags and demanded we get off our butts so we could follow them to the next store. I had a feeling that the rest of today was going to be like this.

And I was right.

Except not really, because now it really was awkward.

Al hadn't a clue what he should say, or I think so judging by the way he's looking at everything around him _but_ me. And I sure as hell didn't want to begin a conversation. I'd probably let spill how Malfoy also tried sticking his tongue down my throat back in third year. That'd just be a _great _topic of discussion, wouldn't it?

Sike.

So it continued like this—even through lunch. He just sat there, staring at his hands. No matter what I did, he wouldn't say a thing to me. I even bought the most expensive thing on the menu! He didn't even flinch.

Oh, Merlin. I think I broke him.

"Albus," I said, giving in and talking to him in fear that it might drive me insane. I used a stern tone, meaning I meant business. I even used his full name, "You can't give me the silent treatment for the rest of the day. I don't even know what I did wrong!"

"Hmm?" He asked, seemingly just coming out of a trance.

I smacked my forehead.

"You're not ignoring me, are you?"

"Ignoring you?" He asked, "Oh, Merlin! Eliza, I'm sorry! I never meant to ignore you. I was just thinking is all." The food came at that moment and he paused, waiting politely for the waitress to leave. He then eyed my food, however, "_Steak_? Really? You couldn't have shared the chicken tenders with me? Merlin, I doubt I'll be able to survive through dinner!"

I rolled my eyes, relieved that he didn't find me disgusting because Malfoy had kissed me.

The silence that enveloped the two of us was no longer awkward, but comfortable and I felt a smile spread across my face.

It didn't last long, however.

"Rose," Malfoy's voice carried from across the table. I was too busy worrying over Al and everything else that I had completely tuned them out up until now, "Have I told you that you look beautiful yet?" She giggled, nodding.

I gagged.

Malfoy noticed and looked up, catching my eyes. Rose, still giggling, began to pay some attention to her food. While she began cutting up her chicken breast and while Al was looking the other way, Malfoy sent me a wink and then put his arm around my best friend. I couldn't hold back the disgusted gasp that erupted from my lungs and the entire table, save for the git diagonal to me, sent me strange looks.

"What's wrong, Eliza?" Rose inquired innocently.

I wanted to scream what was really wrong at her, so that she could run away now and be fine. But instead I flicked the green leaves in the bowl in front of me with my finger and muttered, "They put onions in the salad."

Beside me, Al sent me a knowing look and put his hand on my shoulder.

"It's nothing," I whispered to him, but what I really meant by that was _I'll tell you later_. And I knew that he knew what I meant.

"So tell me what happened." Al demanded as Rose and Malfoy left to do more shopping—for Merlin's sakes, how much shopping can they do in a day! I marched off towards the Shrieking Shack, not really in the mood to be around all these people.

"He's using her!" I cried, infuriated, "I don't know why and I don't know what for, but he's _definitely_ using her!" I huffed and puffed, becoming winded by the fast pace I was walking at, "The git!" I exclaimed, "He's actually got the nerve to put his arm around Rose and then wink at me! Who the hell does he think he is, anyways?"

"Whoa!" Al interrupted, putting his hands up to indicate for me to _slow_ down, "He did what now?"

"Winked at me!" I stated, "While on a date with another girl—and not just any girl! Our best friend, Al!"

"Okay," He retorted angrily, "_Now_ can I kill him?"

"Yes!"

He began to storm off but I held him back, "But not right now, you dunderhead!"

"Why not?"

"Because I want to help!"

"I can handle it, Eliza." He told me, finality present in his voice, "I mean, first he kisses you, and then he uses my cousin; I'm going to kill that motherf—"

"Why does it bother you so much that he kissed me, Al?" I asked, finally voicing my inquiries from earlier. He froze, as if he wasn't expecting the question at all. He seemed to momentarily forget the fact that he was on a rampage to kill one of his good friends.

"I don't know . . . It just does." He looked down and then placed his hands on my shoulders, "I just get this burning feeling in my stomach every time I just think about it."

"Why would it matter?"

He hesitated and looked into my eyes before answering, penetrating them, "I guess I've always been glad that you've hated Scorpius' guts. The thought of you two . . . I just can't take it. And to find that he's actually _kissed_ you . . ." He trailed off; he's been doing that a lot today, "Maybe I became jealous." Every second I looked up into his big green eyes, it seemed like he was getting closer and closer,

"Jealous?" I questioned, confused and mildly distracted. He was sliding his hand from my shoulder to my neck and suddenly I couldn't think straight, "Why would you be jealous?"

"You tell me."

My body felt like it was about to explode in anticipation. There wasn't anyone else around. No Malfoy. No Rose. Just me and Al. Or at least I think so. My brain's gone all fuzzy and I think my vision might have gone screwy. He was so close to me, but it must have been my imagination. Our noses couldn't possibly be skimming across each other's, and there was no way that was _his_ hand on my neck.

No, my mind must be play tricks on me.

But no matter how many times I blinked to clear away my vision, he didn't disappear. He was still there, his face close to mine—and getting closer—and his green eyes half closed. Mine, on the other hand, opened wide as realization struck. This is real.

I've been in love with this guy for two years and this is all I've ever wanted from him. And yet, after one date with him, I'm starting to grasp things I've never comprehended before. It was as if time—always flying by at top speeds—had decelerated to a stroll. The war inside my body raged on. As I glanced from his full lips to his completely closed eyes, something clicked and time was no longer on my side.

Right as he was going to brush his lips against mine, I sighed—backing away slightly.

"Al?" I asked tentatively.

His eyes opened slowly, but he did not lower the arm that had snuck around my waist or the hand on my neck. He seemed almost dazed.

"Yeah?"

"Do you . . . like me?"

It was a simple question with a simple answer and yet I felt my body doing complex things in reaction to it. I was nervous, shy even. I've never felt so insecure in my entire life. And it was all because of one silly question.

"Of course I like you, Eliza." He pressed his forehead against mine; I pulled away again.

"But as . . . more than your friend?" I bit my lip.

This seemed to stir something in him. He pulled away more, shifting his arms so that his hands now rested on my elbows so that there would finally be space between us. The look on his face was one of deep contemplation, "I'm . . . not sure."

I sighed again.

"Do _you _like _me_?" He asked.

"Of course I like you, Al."

He rolled his eyes, "As more than a friend?"

I couldn't take it anymore; I smacked him upside the head.

"Hey! What was that for?" He cried indignantly, rubbing his head where I had hit him.

"For being an oblivious idiot!" I stated, backing away so that there were two feet separating us and crossing my arms across my chest, "Anyone with eyes knows that I've liked you since fourth year!" He opened his mouth to speak but I cut him off, "Listen, Al; all I've ever wanted was your attention, any attention that I could get—I mean, you know how I am! I don't just flirt with tons of guys because I'm a dirty whore—"

"I never thought you were a dirty whore," He told me, pushing his eyebrows together as if he were angry that I thought so lowly of myself.

I ignored him, "But I _am_ an attention whore. We were best friends and stuff, and I thought I was okay with that. At least we hung out and we laughed together and I was the one _making_ you laugh and stuff but . . . I don't know. Lately I've been craving for more—affection, and all that sappy stuff. And well, here you are."

"But?" He knew there was something holding me back, he just wasn't sure what it was.

"But it's not _real_!" I exclaimed, throwing my hands up in the air, "You just told me that you don't know if you have feelings for me or not and, as of two seconds ago, I realized that that's what's important. _Emotion_." I looked up at him through my bangs and was glad to see his features click like he understood where I was coming from, "If you kissed me now, we'd wake up tomorrow and just be friends again. I don't want that, Al."

He sighed, "I don't either."

I froze, "What are you saying?"

He shrugged, as if it were obvious, "You hold a special place in my heart, Eliza. I'm just trying to piece together what it all means. Because, you're right. I don't know if I really do like you. But I know that I have the potential to. After all, you're one of the most beautiful girls I've ever met." So what James said over the summer is true—he _does_ find me attractive, "I'll try my hardest to figure this out . . . but right now . . . we have a Malfoy's murder to plot."

He offered me his hand and, smiling, I took it. We walked away from the Shrieking Shack and back towards the village. And like best friends, we swung our hands dramatically back and forth between our bodies and laughed.

**A/N: Hey, it's me again. And I'm still sucking at this whole author's note thing. Sorry for the lame updating. I really don't have an excuse considering that I have up to chapter ten written. But hey this chapter is pretty long and it's almost got some Al/Eliza action going on!**

**Anywho, I'd like to respond to something one of my lovely reviewers brought up.**

**Holey Spirit - Ahh yes, glad you're on the look out for that kind of stuff. I actually did explain why she knows what a Barbie doll is in...chapter six I think? Whatever chapter where you first meet her, at least. I'm actually really careful with this kind of stuff, because I pride myself on these characters and any flaws they have...well, I sort of want them to be intentional, ya know? Thanks for reviewing, though :D**

**Thanks for _all_ of the feedback, by the way. If you're interested, I have ten chapters of this up on harrypotterfanfiction dot com (one more chapter, whoop dee do) sooo yeah. Hope you enjoyed this chapter!**

**-still_fly**


	10. Sorry

**Chapter Ten**

"Rose," I directed towards my best friend—the one ignoring me with her hand holding Malfoy's (they were a _couple_ now). I poked her but she only giggled at something Malfoy said. It was probably something stupid. I poked her again, harder this time. She _still_ ignored me. I stopped walking with them as they continued down the corridor and felt my jaw go slack.

She _never_ ignores the hard poke!

I closed my mouth before my gum could fall out and placed my hands on my hips haughtily.

"Oh fine, Rose!" I cried after them as they kept on strolling, "I see how it is. You'd rather giggle at the ferret then eat lunch with your best friend. Fine! I'll just go to lunch without you—" This was usually when she'd stumble into a guilt trip. Panic arose in me when I realized it wasn't working, "And eat alone . . . and drown myself in the pumpkin juice!"

. . . They were already around the corner.

I sighed in defeat.

That's when a dorky looking third year approached me. He cleared his throat like he was trying to be smooth—and started hacking something up in the process, "I'll go to lunch with you," he offered kindly after his coughs calmed down.

"Bite me." I snapped.

He flinched, eyes widening, "Really?" he asked hopefully.

"Get out of here!" I yelled, waving my arm at him like I was trying to scare an animal away. He rushed off immediately, "Wait, kid! Get back here for a second. And wipe that hopeful smirk off your face." I commanded as he returned, cautiously.

"Yes?"

"Throw this away for me, will ya?" I asked, taking the gum from my mouth and putting it in his unsuspecting hand. I walked away from him without another word.

When I reached the Great Hall I noted that it was virtually empty. Probably because everyone already finished eating because they don't have crazy best friends who say they want to take a walk around Hogwarts with you only to ditch you for the git she's obsessed with.

I sat down with a grumble and stuffed a chicken leg into my face.

"You look lovely," Commented an annoying voice from my left, dripping with sarcasm.

"Go away, Dom." I said through the chicken. Of course, it was all muffled and she probably couldn't understand a word I had just said. Even if she had heard me, she would have ignored me anyways. Of that, I am sure.

She sat down, straddling the bench so she was facing me, "I heard you went on a date with my cousin."

I swallowed the large amount of food in my mouth before speaking again, "Only because your _other_ cousin forced me to."

"Really?" She asked sarcastically. I've noticed how much she likes to tease me about this now that my feelings toward Al have gone public. It's rather annoying, actually. And you've no idea how much I'd like to punch her in the face every time she sends a snide comment my way.

I knew I shouldn't have told James about the date. He gossips more than girls.

"Okay, fine! Your other cousin forced _Al_ to."

"Much better," She smirked.

"I really hate you sometimes, Dom." I told her bluntly.

"Good. I hate you sometimes, too."

"Is there a reason you came over to talk to me?"

"Yes, actually."

"Well then, get on with it so I can eat without gagging every time I look at your face."

"I want a truce."

The spoon I held fell to the ground, along with the creamed corn I was just about to put into my mouth. I stared at her, accessing her sanity critically. I cleared my throat—much more successfully than that dorky kid did earlier—and asked, "Erm, didn't we just get done agreeing that we hate each other?"

Dom rolled her eyes in annoyance, "And never forget it."

I raised an eyebrow. She still hadn't answered the question.

She sighed, raking her fingers through her hair, "Obviously, it won't be a _permanent_ truce—"

"How is that obvious?" I interrupted, folding my arms and sneering, "You still haven't told me anything. Like _why_ you want a truce."

"Because . . ." She hesitated, "I want to kill Malfoy. You want to kill Malfoy. Al wants to kill Malfoy. Why don't we all just team up and kill Malfoy?" She shrugged.

"James told you about that part of the date too then, eh?"

I knew I shouldn't have trusted him with that information.

"James is telling everyone," She remarked, rolling her eyes, "I didn't have to hear it from him . . . Although, I have a feeling what I heard isn't the original story. It's somehow hard to believe that Malfoy paraded around Hogsmeade in a leather jumpsuit."

"That could have just been James being an idiot and trying to be funny."

"True."

We glanced at each other.

"We're actually being civil right now, aren't we?" Dom inquired, looking at me with a suddenly horrified expression.

"Ew, let's stop right now." I agreed, the same look of horror spreading across my features, "Hag."

"Lowlife."

We sighed in relief that the insults could still come to us easily. Dom then left, muttering something about going to find Albus to inform him of the truce. I picked up my spoon off the ground, wiped it off with my dirty napkin and—when no one was looking—switched it with the clean spoon right next to me. I then proceeded to stuff my face.

Until, that is, I noticed something fiery and pale moving in my peripheral vision. I glanced sideways to find none other than Lily Potter sitting beside me. She had a bowl of . . . paper? And she was . . . poking them towards me?

"I saw that." She said, nodding her head towards the spoon.

"Er . . ." I ignored her comment, a little befuddled at what she was doing, "Are you . . . okay, Lily?"

"Of course I am." She replied simply, picking another piece of paper out of the bowl and poking it at me again, "I'm just poking fun at you."

I picked up one of the papers . . . and it indeed had the word _fun_ written on it.

"I don't think that phrase is meant to be taken literally, Lily." I replied with a chuckle, ignoring the fact that she feels the need to 'poke fun at me' for something, "And you're littering!" I remarked, watching as yet another piece of paper floated to the ground.

"So?" She snorted.

"So . . . pick it up!"

She rolled her eyes, waving her wand at the fallen paper. They disappeared instantly.

"Where'd you send them?"

"Filch's pocket."

"_Why?"_

"So he can throw them away for me." She shrugged.

"Why didn't you just send them to a trash can?"

She smacked her hand to her forehead at her own stupidity.

I laughed, "I think you spend a little too much time around James."

"Speaking of James," She said, wiggling her eyebrows, "He informs me that Al had a rather hot date the other night . . . and that Malfoy was walking around Hogsmeade in a pink jumpsuit."

"I thought it was a leather jumpsuit?" I said out loud but mostly to myself.

"So he really _was_ in a jumpsuit!"

". . . Why not?" I asked dryly.

Lily looked heated. I'm not sure if she understood my sarcasm. She was acting like this should all be obvious . . . which it is—Scorpius in any sort of jumpsuit is a major barf-fest, "_Because_ no one—and I do mean _no one_—wants to see that. Not even Rose."

"Agreed."

We shivered.

I think my shiver shivered.

"But anyways," Lily began, sighing in dejection, "I also heard you spilled the beans about your feelings to Al." I nodded, pulling away from my dinner momentarily to try and figure out where Lily was going with this. She just smiled at me, and ruffled my hair, "He doesn't deserve you, Eliza." I blinked, unsure if those words actually came out of her mouth.

"Where did that come?" I asked, rather shocked, "He's your _brother_."

"He's also a butthead to me!" She told me smartly, "There's a reason why I act more like James than I do Al. It's because Al hates being around me. He thinks I'm nothing more than his bratty little sister—"

"Bratty little sister that he _loves_!"

"—with a big mouth but nothing important to say. So James rubs off on me 'cause I'm around him more and . . ." She trailed off, rolling her eyes as I tried to defend him again. She wasn't letting me get a word in though, "He just doesn't deserve someone like you."

"And what do _I_ deserve?" I asked seriously, "I'm just an attention seeking bimbo with a fish obsession."

She opened her mouth to disagree but stopped short, hesitating.

"See?" I asked, motioning to her blubbering mouth, "It's the truth and you know it."

"But you're a lot more than that too."

"Al is too," I pointed out, "And you are _much _more than a bratty little sister."

"Thanks, Eliza."

"You're also great entertainment."

She glared, "_Thanks_, Eliza."

"Kidding!" I giggled and then grew serious, "Al's your older brother; he's probably just too blind to see through that and misjudges a fiery spirit for a bratty one. But he loves you, Lily. Don't ever think he doesn't. Why else would he get twitchy when boys flirt with you?"

"Thanks, Liza." She said again—but more genuinely this time—smiling.

She pulled me into a hug, one I was not expecting at all.

You know, the harder and harder I fall for Al the more and more his family seems to accept me as one of them. Even Dom's creating a 'truce'. Maybe I'm doomed to be a Weasley . . .

Instead of a Potter.

Erg.

Later, when I was wondering aimlessly around the corridors—guess who ditched me again—I stumbled upon a boy sitting on the ground, his back pressed against the wall, looking . . . almost dead. I felt almost awkward being here—like I was intruding into a private moment of this boy's self-pity.

When seeing that it was actually James, I didn't really care anymore.

"James?" I started tentatively.

He looked up at me, our eyes connecting, only to look down seconds later without any response whatsoever.

Okay, now I'm worried.

"James, what's wrong?" I tried getting through to him again. I studied him, now noticing the red envelope he was holding limply in between his hands. I sat down next to him and reached for the letter. I paused, however, just to make sure it was okay with him. His lack of response told me it was okay. Gingerly, I picked it up, pulled out the parchment from inside and began to read.

"Merlin . . ." I muttered, not even two lines into it. But that was all I needed to read. I put the letter back in his hands, feeling strangely guilty—why would he trust something so personal to me, after all? It made no sense . . .

James nodded, agreeing with the grief in my voice that I felt for him.

"James, I—"

"You what, Eliza?" He asked heatedly. In no way did he sound bitter. In no way did he find this to be my fault. He was angry. But something told me that he's not trying to direct his anger at me—he just needs to let it out to someone. Again, I feel guilty. Why am _I_ that person?

"I—I'm sorry."

"Don't be." He commanded, turning away from me slightly so that he could stare at the coat of arms just down the hallway, "You warned me. I was just stupid enough to hope you were wrong. Don't be sorry for being right."

But I am.

I sighed, "That's not what I meant," I half-lied, "I'm sorry that you feel like this."

He sighed too, "Me too. But thanks."

"Barbie doesn't know what she's missing."

He rolled his eyes, turning his head to me so that I could see his halfhearted smirk, "You're right."

There was an awkward silence for a moment that made me squirm. So, of course, I had to ruin it by babbling like an idiot, "You're not going to hug me, are you?"

"No . . . why?"

"Your family has been hugging me a lot lately . . ."

"In _that_ case . . ."

"_James_."

"Just kidding!"


	11. Comprehension

**Chapter Eleven**

"Eliza," Al greeted me the next day with a wide smile and twinkling green eyes. Before I could even raise my hand to wave at him, he strode my way until his toes were touching mine, grabbed my wrist and pulled me into a hug.

The kind of hug that's a little more than friendly. And the few Gryffindors still lounging around the common room were beginning to stare. Not that I cared.

"Hey, Albus?" I replied, but it came out more as question—not to mention it was muffled due to the fact that my jaw was stuffed into the fabric of his shirt. After a moment or two, I pushed him away. Although I enjoyed the affection, it also made me slightly uncomfortable. He didn't seem offended in the slightest to my reluctance.

"You have a free period right now, correct?"

"Depends on what you want."

He grinned sheepishly, and shuffled to the left—revealing another person standing behind him.

"Ugh." Was my initial reaction, "Do we really have to do this right now?"

"Al's idea, not mine." Dom answered with a sneer, stepping forward and slightly leaning against her cousin.

"The sooner we kill my supposed best mate, the better." Al's voice was dripping and bitter.

"Who're we killing?"

All three of us jumped at the sweet, innocent voice of—

"Lily!" Al groaned in annoyance, "This is none of your business. Don't you have class to go to right now, anyways?" Lily didn't miss the hopeful tone in his voice, and I didn't miss the way her eyes flashed with persistence.

"Like _you've_ never skipped class before," She bit back sarcastically.

Al held up his hands in defense, "Mum and dad told me to be an example for you—that doesn't mean I have to be a _good_ one. Think of it like this; I'm teaching you what _not_ to do . . . now hop along with all the rest of the third years."

"I'm in _fourth_ year, Al."

"Whatever, I still don't—"

"Lily, do you hate Scorpius Malfoy too?" Dom cut in, looking a little peeved by the siblings' bantering. I silently thanked her—it was annoying me too.

"Considering I care for Rose as much as you guys, yes."

"Then you can stay."

"What!"

I smacked the back of Al's head, effectively shutting up his protests. He sent me an ornery glare, folded his arms like a three year old and then huffed theatrically, showing his complete disagreement with the situation. I rolled my eyes. Al could be a real baby sometimes.

"So I take it we're killing Malfoy, then?" Lily asked, stepping into the circle we've subconsciously created. Dom and I nodded, whereas Al just huffed again. She smiled in a sort of way that reminds me of James when he's about to do something unbelievably stupid, "Wicked."

"Let's get down to business so I can leave," I muttered, advertising my distaste for actually doing something productive. For good measure I added a pleasant, "Annoying hoes."

This is officially stupid.

Dom sort of claimed the position of 'leader' of our little . . . well, whatever it is we're doing. I have to admit that that girl has quite the maniacal side. Her plan—and this is hard for me to say because it's _Dom_—has merit. Pizzazz even. But there were a few dirty jobs that went along with it. And guess who she left those to? . . . Yeah. And they really are disgusting jobs.

"I'm not drinking that." I told her, sticking my nose in the air at the sight of the bubbling, green liquid. Dom held out the opaque mug in her petite hand like it was a trophy and I was today's lucky winner. What kind of a fool does she take me for?

"Oh, come _on_," Dom persisted, "_I've_ done it before."

I raised my eyebrow, "Where the heck do you come by Polyjuice Potion anyways?"

"I have connections," She sniffed.

"_Look_, Dom," I said, pressing a firm hand on her shoulder so the message would get across her thick skull, "I am _not_ turning myself into _Jared Zabini_—" We both shuddered at the name, "—just to lock myself in the boys' _horrendous_ smelling bathroom to eavesdrop on a git who will probably never walk in there. So just forget it."

"But you _have_ to."

"Albus is a boy!" I cried, waving my hands in the air, "Have _him_ do it. Or better yet, why don't _you_ do it!"

"Al has already received his assignment." Dom stated, "He's doing it right now, actually. And_ I_ have other, more important skills to contribute to this mission. I'm not going to waste it on the dirty, _easy_ work."

My lip twitched, my eyebrows furrowed and my breaths were coming out in harsh exhales. This girl is so infuriating, "What exactly _is_ Al's assignment?" I growled out, deciding—for her benefit—that I would ignore her jab at my skill. Or according to her: a lack thereof.

"He's going to convince Rose to go to Hogsmeade with us on Halloween. He's looking for her in your dormitory right now, actually."

My eye twitched, "And you thought he was more suited for that job than _me_? Even when I live with the dense girl, sleep in the bed next to hers every day, and have to endure stupid girl nights where we stay up all night, talk about _Malfoy,_ and paint each other's toenails with her tortuous muggle nail polish? Don't you think it's a little more convenient for me to have that job, _Dom_?" As a side note to show her stupidity, I added, "How did he even get up the staircase to my dormitory!"

Dom sneered, "_Fine._ Go get him, then. I'll switch your assignments!" When she thought I couldn't hear anymore, she added under her breath, "_Dumb cry-baby._"

"I heard that!" I yelled back to her, already walking up the stairs to my dorm. I strolled up each step lazily, already bored with my new assignment. It would be easy to convince Rose to go to Hogsmeade with us; all it will take is a little whining and a lot of guilt tripping—my specialties. At least I wouldn't have to turn into _Jared Zabini_ though.

I froze as I approached my dormitory. I don't know why I did—I already knew it was Al in there—but I felt compelled to just . . . listen. So I did. Pressing my ear up against the wood of my door, I listened. I listened _good_.

The first thing I heard was a monotone sigh, and then a clink. Like he flicked his finger against glass, "Why does Eliza think you're such great company, huh?" He asked, and my heart jumped at the mention of my name, "You're just a goldfish." I frowned, realizing just what the clinking noise was. He was more than _just_ a goldfish! He laughed after a moment, "Nevermind. I promised myself that I would never question it again: ever since the first day I met her and she was carrying you—er, the _first_ you—down the train. I asked her why she was carrying a fish in the first place. Chaos soon followed my question and you . . . sort of died. She looked so . . . heartbroken. I didn't want to see her like that ever again."

He sighed again.

"Unfortunately, the life span of a goldfish doesn't last too long."

I stifled a giggle at his obvious, yet adorable, observation.

"But I don't get it," He continued on in his soliloquy, "She talks to you all the time. _Why_? You never respond, save letting out a few bubbles—which honestly doesn't count." I was fuming in my head. It took me _years_ to decipher Paul's bubble language! "That girl is so intriguing. She tries so hard to be like everyone else and to gain the attention of every boy at Hogwarts and yet she's still different. How she talks to you is only part of it."

He paused.

"I always thought of her like a member of our family. 'Cause she was always there. And she certainly has the knack for trouble my family has." He chuckled lightly, "Lately though, I'm not so sure. I mean, I love the girl to death—" No doubt like he loves every other member of his family, "—but there's this gut feeling I've got that there could be something _more_ there.

There's no denying that I was a little more than shocked when she told me she liked me. I know I was making a move at that point, but _really_. At the time I was scared out of my pants of rejection. I truly hadn't a clue how she'd react. And what if it ruined our friendship? What if she was repulsed by me? She dates a lot of suave guys; I'm just her goofy best friend. It makes me wonder why I even tried to kiss her. Then one day I realized that there's something warm about being around Eliza. Like magma. I'm just waiting for the day when it erupts. I think that day is coming soon though." There was silence for a brief moment and then he chuckled, "Yeah, I know. It _has_ been a long time coming." He laughed, "I must sound like such a woman right now. Keep this between the two of us, okay Paul?"

More silence.

"_Whoa_."

I pressed myself even closer to the door, if that was even possible. Something in Al's voice had changed; it was like he had just received some almighty revelation.

And then I heard a chuckle, "Maybe I understand now. You're a good listener." He paused again, "Still, it's slightly awkward talking to a goldfish. I feel like I should be having this conversation with my _mum_ or something—or better yet, _Eliza_." I heard the bed creak, like it does when you jump off it too quickly . . . and then there was the sound of breaking glass and spilling water.

My eyes widened, and I burst through the door in panic. Incoherent thoughts were bursting through my mind—not to mention out of Al's mouth.

It was like a replay of that fateful summer when I realized my feelings for Al . . . except not really. But you get what I mean. Paul was on the verge of death after being knocked off the nightstand again and the only ones here to witness his brutal, unfair death were Al and me.

"Crap, crap, crap, _crap!_" Al repeated over and over again. He was doing a sort of panicked jig, waving his arms around helplessly as he shifted from foot to foot, "Not again!"

"Al?" I managed through my tight throat, praying that he hadn't knocked over what I think he knocked over. I glanced behind his body.

"Eliza?"

"Paul!"

He _did_ knock over what I thought he knocked over.

Something clicked in my mind that did not during that summer, however; I'm a _witch_. While Al fumbled helplessly over the broken glass and the water dripping through the floorboards, I pulled out my wand and pointed it at the mess, "_Reparo!"_ The billion shards of glass littering the floor lifted off the ground and flew back to its original state—like I was watching a reversal of its destruction.

Now there was just one final problem. The water.

I cursed, racking my mind on the proper way to conjure water.

I always sucked at Charms.

"Albus," I stated seriously, placing a firm hand on his shoulder, "Do you think you could make some water with your wand? _Please_?" I emphasized the last part and glanced at the flopping body of my beloved fish. Al, who seemed to have been stunned, snapped out of his stupor, nodded, pulled out his wand, and exclaimed the incantation to the spell. I waited with baited breath as, at first, nothing happened. But then a beautiful waterfall of the life-giving liquid splashed out of the tip of his wand and into Paul's fish tank. Once it was filled one-fourth of the way, I scooped Paul into my hand and placed him gently into the water. He swam from one side of the tank to the other frantically and I blew out a sigh of sweet relief.

"He's still alive," I panted—completely out of breath. I had _actually _saved him. I squealed out of happiness, tackling Al to the ground into a hug. He hugged back, placing his hand in my hair and the other on my waist. The adrenaline still running through my veins didn't help my brain register that this was a rather compromising position we were in.

"Thank Merlin," He whispered from below me, "I don't want to see you heartbroken ever again."

I pulled back, his conversation with Paul barging back into my mind. He had said he should have that conversation with me, but I haven't the slightest idea if that conversation was taking a turn for the better or the worse. My only hope was that he'd actually have it with me so it could all be clarified.

I stared down at his face; he looked so concerned for me. His hair was wet, considering I was forcing him to lie in the puddle of water that used to be in Paul's tank. His green eyes looked soft, like fields of grass or fuzzy leaves and they were looking into mine with sudden . . . _conviction._ He tightened his hold on me as I tried to squirm out of his grasp, placing the hand in my hair to my lower back. I surrendered, falling back onto his chest.

He quirked his head to the side in wonder, "How much did you hear? Before all hell broke loose, that is."

I sighed, "All of it." I failed to mention that I didn't understand a word of it.

His eyebrows scrunched together, "Then you won't be surprised."

"About what?"

"Paul and I were having an interesting conversation," He stated, the corner of his lips slightly pulling up into a half-smile, "But I'd kind of like to talk to you about it instead." My heart sped up for reasons unknown; it was like I had a feeling that something big was about to happen.

"Okay. Shoot."

Before I could even blink, he flipped himself over so that he was lying on top of me now. I gasped out of pure shock and from the sudden contact with the cold water still on the floor, but my surprise was cut short by his lips—and then I was _really_ surprised. Al was kissing me. Sweet Merlin, Al was kissing me! I've been dreaming about this since forever and now I have no idea what I should do!

So I responded. Happily.

A fresh batch of adrenaline was pumping through my veins, clouding my thoughts. I slid my hands up his arms and neck and threaded my fingers through his messy hair. I pulled myself closer to him but it still wasn't close enough. His lips moved against mine in a rhythm I didn't even know existed. His hands ran up and down my arms and my side—leaving a trail of burning fire in their wake.

My level of comprehension had been reduced to the size of a peanut, my happiness enlarged to the size of the earth, but my self control tilted back and forth. I knew I had to pull away. But every time I was close to doing so, his lips would do something new and amazing and I would pull myself back into his embrace.

This had to stop.

His lips moved to my neck.

. . . Maybe in a few minutes.

So caught up in our hormones, we hadn't noticed the giggling couple stumbling through the door. We didn't notice how they froze and dropped their jaws to the floor. To be honest, I couldn't notice anything more than Al's lips and Al's hands. And I wasn't exactly hoping for this blissful distraction to end anytime soon.

"Gross!" An annoying male's voice exclaimed.

"My eyes!" An equally annoying female's voice shouted.

Al broke away from my neck, and we gazed up in shock and horror at Rose and Malfoy towering above us. They looked horrified.

Is Al and I kissing really that revolting?

I pushed Albus off of me and stood up, wiping the dust off of my butt. Al followed my lead, placing a warm hand in the crook of my elbow. He was smiling at his cousin and his so-called best mate, as if he was glad he had been caught kissing his best _girl_ mate.

"Uhh, I can explain?"

Who am I kidding? No I couldn't. Rose's smirk confirmed it.

I was never going to hear the end of this one.


	12. Matchmaker

**Chapter Twelve**

Rose took my hand in a grip of death and slammed it on the ground so that she could get a good angle on my fingernails. She then proceeded to untwist the cap off a tiny glass container with neon pink nail polish inside, drowned the brush in the horrible smelling goo and coated my perfectly shaped nails with the torturous substance. I don't know why I bother meticulously shaping my nails into perfect curves with a nail file when I know Rose will just make them look ugly when I'm done.

We both sat, cross-legged, next to my bed. Ours wands were lit, providing light for my torture. After a few irritable protests from the other girls in our dorm, we cast a charm around us so that they wouldn't hear Rose talking. Because sometimes I forget that people with normal friends actually sleep at night.

Rose squealed for about the millionth time since she and Ferret Jr. had walked in on my little…spectacle with Al. I'm about ready to punch her in the face next time she makes a sound of delight; it's getting on my bloody nerves. "Eliza, just think!" She gushed zealously, "You'll be able to double with us—all the time! Oh, it'll be so much fun!"

Oh, you mean like our last double date? Where the bloke who you happen to be perpetually in love with, not to mention dating, winked at me like I was some juicy piece of meat? And let's not even start on the awkward atmosphere Al and I generated with such ease and intensity that an amoeba could have recognized it as abnormal.

Oh yeah, it'll be oodles of fun.

"—you also have no idea how happy I am for you—for us. I mean here we've been, chasing after the same guys for who knows how long; I finally got Scorpius, and you finally got Al. It couldn't have timed itself better—"

Oh Merlin, how much more of this do I have to endure? I mean, here I was thinking that this would be the opportune moment to put the plan into action—convince Rose to ditch her git for just one measly little Hogsmeade trip—but no. She's got to eat away at my soul with her talk of_'__I've been waiting so long for this guy, Liza' _and _'__I think I'm in love, Eliza'_! Putting this plan on the right course is like sending Rose's heart on a one-way trip to heartbreak; city hall is aptly named depression and the streets are flooded with backstabbing and lies.

How could I do that?

It kills me to say this but…James was right. Hell, what is the world coming to?

I need a distraction.

"Hey, Rose?" I asked, interrupting her vocalization of her every thought and whim, "Wanna go down to the kitchens? I'm starving." It wasn't really a lie. Today's endeavors didn't leave much room for eating…or leaving Gryffindor tower, for that matter.

She capped the bottle of nail polish, releasing her vise-like grip on my hand. She bit her lip and looked hesitantly towards the clock on her nightstand, "Isn't it a little late? I mean, we have classes tomorrow. Think of how dead we'll be."

No, really?

"Oh," I replied innocently, resisting every sarcastic bone in my body (in other words, all of them) that was screaming for me to let slip a snarky comment. I was cheering in silent triumph on the inside at what she was proposing, "In that case, we should probably go to bed."

Roses eyes widened at the word as if I had just used extremely offensive language, "I-I mean, I'm hungry too! Let's go!" She grabbed my wrist and pulled me towards the door quickly. I could only sigh in defeat. These 'girl nights' are taking their toll on my life. And when I say life, I mean sleep. I took a final glance at the clock as I was dragged out of the dormitory—_12:42_—and sighed again.

Twenty minutes later we were sitting in the kitchens, surrounded by delicious foods that would definitely make me fat if I weren't young with a fast metabolism. Rose had an entire carton of ice cream in her lap, and it was already halfway gone. She also asked for wontons—which I've never had before—because she was apparently craving them all day.

"They don't look very appetizing." I noted critically, fiddling with one in my hand as if looking at it from another angle would make it look yummier.

Rose merely pointed at a wonton and sent me a thumbs-up. It was her way of saying that they're really good without having to speak. Thank goodness. I think if she had opened her wonton-stuffed face, I would have been sprayed with a goopy mist of sweet and sour sauce and cream cheese. She gulped it down (I'm surprised she didn't choke) and continued her yapping.

"Did he ask you?"

"Huh?"

Rose rolled her eyes at my apparent incompetence, "Al. Did he officially ask you out yet?"

"Can't be sure."

"What happened?"

"Hard to say."

"Well, we walked in on the pair of you sucking each other's face off."

"Yeah, sounds about right."

"He seemed to be enjoying it."

"Did you think he wouldn't?"

"Well, no. But it's Al."

"So? He's a boy, I'm a girl. I'm all he ever thinks about."

"I suppose when you put it like that."

"Makes sense, doesn't it?"

"Yeah, it does…"

"Yup," I popped the "p" in apathy.

"Wait. Did you just steer me away from my initial question?"

"No," I said innocently.

"Then answer it!"

"What was it? I don't even remember."

"Cut the crap."

"So now there's crap involved? I don't like the direction this conversation is going."

"You're the one that includes the word 'poop' in her conversations on a daily basis."

"Touché."

"Wait. You did it again."

"Did what?"

"Avoided my question!"

"I told you, I don't remember what the question was."

"And I told you to cut the crap!"

"We're going back to that conversation?"

"Eliza!"

"What?"

"Are you and Al official or not?"

"Yes."

"Yes you are or yes you're not?"

"…ugh! Look, I don't know, okay?"

Rose regarded me with a look of utter perplexity, "How can you not know? He either asked you out or he didn't. There is no in between." She stuffed another wonton in her face and patiently waited for my answer.

"Well, you know with all the sucking face as you so lovely put it, it would be implied that we're going out. But we never really…talk about it. So I don't know." And idea struck me at that point, "You know, I'm so done with boys right now. Can we just have a girl day? You and me?"

"What do you think this is?" She gestured to the wontons, "Idiot…"

"This is called sleep deprivation. I'm only twenty-five percent conscious. I don't think this counts."

"So…what? You wanna spend the day at Hogsmeade together? Go shopping?"

"Yes!"

"…well, okay. All you had to do was ask, 'Liza."

It's not really that simple…is it?

"Goodbody!"

"Mmm'wha?" I asked, lifting my head up from my desk. My parchment was stuck to my face, courtesy of the drool running down my face. I wiped it off, parchment and all, and looked up into McGonagall's pissed off face. She was leering over me, hands on her hips.

"Care to demonstrate the proper way to turn a clock into candle?"

I leaned back easily, putting my hands behind my head, "I reckon you'd probably do a better job than me, McGonagall." She shot me a look that would've killed me out of pure fear had I not been used to it, "I mean, Professor," I added to humor her.

"Professor Cook," McGonagall began, keeping her stare planted on mine, "Perhaps you could demonstrate the proper way to turn a clock into a candle?"

"Of course," Barbie replied, ever so peppy.

McGonagall finally walked away from me and to the front of the class. I sighed. Truth be told, I would be able to stay awake (despite having stayed up to all hours of the night with Rose) if only James were here. He hasn't been to class since that day I saw him in the hall, all dejected and whatnot. It breaks my heart to see him so sad all the time. It also hurts my Transfiguration grade…

I should set the dude up with someone. Preferably a student.

…That's actually not a bad idea. I still have a week and a half of downtime before we humiliate Malfoy. Maybe Al would join me on a quest to find James a bird. Maybe we could figure out whatever the heck we are while we're at it.

I smirked.

Things are about to get interesting again.

Meanwhile during my mind-rant, Barbie had, in fact, managed to turn a clock into a candle. A lit candle…what a perfectionist.

"You wanna_what?"_

"Stalk cute girls."

"That sounds like something that would come out of Scorpius' mouth, not yours, Eliza," Al stated, and then as an afterthought, "No offense."

I'm offended.

But I shook it off with a roll of my eyes, "You haven't even heard me out—"

"I'm not really sure I want to, because right now it sounds to me like after having experienced my out-of-this-world kissing skills, you've realized that I'm way too man for you and you ought to turn to…you know, girls."

I laughed, "Not exactly. But that's quite the imagination you have there, Allie-poo."

His face twisted in disgust, "Don't call me that."

"Don't give me a reason to!"

"Fine, whatever. Why do you want to stalk the cute girls of Hogwarts if not because you're a lesbian?"

I hit his thigh as hard as could for that last part and began my explanation, "James needs to get over Barbie. You and I should play matchmaker and find the perfect bird out there for him. I'm thinking someone just as loud as him, and someone just as dense." I nodded, encouraging the idea in my head. He needs someone as stupid as him to keep up with said stupidity.

"This doesn't sound like a great idea." He said, scratching his neck, "Sounds kind of boring too."

"When we get really bored, we can snog or something."

"Deal."


End file.
